Tristitia
by Tend to Infinity
Summary: Jess Aarons and Leslie Burke are students at High School. Trapped between adulthood and childhood, they discover themselves. Part 2 of Atonement. Part 1: Frequency.
1. Chapter 1: Together

Teenage Dirtbags

**Chapter 1: Together**

_Snore_. There he goes, again... sleeping during the film I choose. We had a deal: I would watch something Jess liked if, and only if, he would watch something I liked the next time we watched something. He wouldn't say anything, but he would probably be upset if I slept during his film. Besides, I'm certain I don't make noises like that when I sleep!

I had bought a film I'd seen before, which was probably a mistake, but it was one of my favourites. It was _Titanic_ and, deliberately, it was a romantic film... but, of course, Jess fell asleep. Fantastic. All he ever got was _Dawn of the Dead _and _Nightmare of Elm Street_, or something like that. Don't get me wrong, I like those films, but they're all the same.

"Jess," I muttered, nudging him in the side before taking another hand-full of popcorn. It was the best scene in the film, the scene where he drew her... "Jess, wake up."

"Just another minute..." he muttered, swatting my hand away, and continuing to swat as if there were bees flying around his ears.

"Jess," I said, more forcefully now, continuing to nudge him.

After a second, he hopped off the chair, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, Leslie," he said, his voice perking up. "I must have fallen asleep for a long time, it's night all ready." He gestured, haphazardly, toward the window. "Sorry for missing the film!"

"It's still on," I giggled. "You were only asleep for fifteen minutes."

"It's still on!" Jess said, mouth agape. He kept looking to me, looking back to the screen, double taking. Then, on the third go, his gaze focussed on the T.V. "What the heck are you watching?"

I laughed again, his face was straight out of a cartoon. "It's still the same film," I said, holding out the popcorn bowl in front of his face. "Come on, I watched your film!"

"Yeah, but..." he stuttered, trying to find an answer.

"Sit down, before you hurt yourself," I commanded. I grabbed the pillow, slapped him with it, and threw it across the room. "You're not falling asleep again; I'll banish you!"

"You can't banish me!" he grinned, plopping himself down beside me and taking the bowl. "I'm the king!"

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, we all know queens are better than kings!"

He opened his mouth, playfully, before closing it again. "You're right," he bowed. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," I winked. "You'd better be!"

My name is Leslie Burke, a fifteen year old student of Tristitia High School. I'm not anything special, an average girl, but one thing I have is him... Jess Aarons: my best friend in the entire world. The boy who had dove into a torrent to save my life, a boy who had hugged me and not let go when he realised I was going to be OK. The artist who drew worlds that we created... just a fraction of the things that made him the most special person on this floating rock.

Once, sometimes twice, a week, Jess and I would get a film from the shop by his dad's work (where Jess also worked) and he would come watch it in my bedroom. It was perfectly set up: a nice, green, three seater couch along my wall facing a T.V that I had to beg, and beg, and beg Dad to get. I had to prove to him that are good only if you watch them as a last resort, and I would still spend a lot of time outside. I'd kept my promise. To be honest, I didn't really like the T.V; everything seemed pretty mundane when I was on my own.

Well, what was there to say about the two of us? We were misfits; I had been aware of that fact since I was little. I guess misfits flock together, but that's not to say I only hang out with him because I have no one else. I want no one else, not one person. In fact, it would be impossible to find a better friend. Why was that? Well, Jess was perfect.

I don't know what it was about him. Was it his brown, wavy hair? Was it his soft, brown eyes? Perhaps it was his artistic talent, or the fact that he really seemed to understand me. It was all of those things; like he said, he was the king... He was the king of Terabithia.

Terabithia. That was the place we spent our time, all of the time that we weren't at school, asleep, or at our houses (together, I might add). It was a forest, but it was much more than that. It was where we were the rulers, a world that we protected from the evils of the dark master, where there was no one else, no bullies at school, no teachers, no responsibilities... all we have is each other when we step across the bridge.

It reminded me of the day I woke up. It was funny how simple everything was back then, the fact that I had been in a coma became old news in our heads very quickly. Everything fell back to Terabithia in the end, as it should...

xXx

_Jess walked over and, without warning, took me in his arms and didn't let go. "I've been OK, Leslie," he said, in a voice that sounded much older than Jess. It was the same pitch, it just sounded more wise. "I'm just... so glad to see you..." and his voice trailed off. Then, after a long sigh, and one last squeeze, he moved away. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, Jess broke away from me. The next few seconds were silent, and I could feel my cheeks reddening. _

"_Err..." I stuttered. "What was that for?" _

_Oddly enough, when Jess pulled away, he looked just as surprised and confused as me. After he got over what looked like shock, he spoke. "It just feels like," he paused. "It just feels like I haven't seen you for ages." He grinned after that, though his gaze was angled downwards (his cheeks were red). How cute. _

"_They say I've been out for days," I explained, breaking the silence of the room. I had to speak or I would laugh; Jess's mouth kept opening, then closing again. "The doctors, I mean," I added, when nothing was said. _

_Jess nodded. "Did they..." he stammered. "Did they say anything else?" _

_Yeah, they did indeed. "Yeah," I muttered, looking off to the side. "They told me what you did..." Then, after a second of silent contemplation, my pillow collided with his shoulder. _

"_What was that for?" he protested, rubbing his injured arm._

"_You idiot!" I scolded. Secretly, I was amazed that I was so important to him. It made me so happy to think that he had risked everything just to make sure I was OK. But, of course, I was never going to say that! "What were you thinking?"_

"_What do you mean?" he asked, looking bewildered and hurt._

_Instantly feeling guilty, I continued. "What if you had drowned?" I asked. "Who would be around to look after Terabithia?"_

_He grinned, still nursing his 'injured' arm. He was joking, of course; I hadn't hit him too hard. There was no way that I could ever actually hurt Jess Aarons, the person who saved my life. "I didn't really think about it," he said. Then he frowned. "Do you remember what happened? Anything at all." _

_My brow lowered with thought. "Hmm..." I hummed, falling into thought. It was weird trying to look back on that moment. If was like watching a film where someone had broken the end; everything cut off just before what you really wanted to see. It was infuriating! After I had exhausted my head, I said: "I remember knocking at your door, and you not being there," I told him. I looked up to see him looking at the ground. "Then... nothing," I finished. "Care to fill me in?" _

_He was still looking at the ground. "I was going... well, Ms. Edmunds had asked me to go on a trip to Tristitia Museum to look at some paintings, or something like that..." he explained, before I interrupted him. _

"_Bet you loved that," I teased, grinning._

_He looked up, more at ease, with a smile. "Then, while we were driving away, I looked at you house," he trailed off. I didn't want to push him, or upset him, but these pauses were really annoying when you were trying to get a story out. "I can't remember why, but something in my head clicked. I panicked, jumped out the car and ran to find you."_

"_You... panicked?"_

_Yeah," he nodded, but he looked extremely confused. "I have no idea why, though, not even a clue." He ran his hand through his hair. "Anyway," he continued. "I jumped out of the car and ran to Terabithia and... well, you know the rest." _

_He had been really worried about me... that's all I had got from that story. The doctors had told me that Jess had seen me fall, and jumped in. Jess had also said he didn't think, he just tried to save me. Talk about a knight in shining armour... "Thanks, Jess," I said, looking at my feet poking up from the covers, suddenly overwhelmed with gratification. "I wouldn't be here without you." _

_After another agonising pause, Jess replied. "Don't mention it." _

_Then, much like my pillow had struck Jess's shoulder, my mind was struck by a thought. "Jess!" I gasped. He instantly sat up straight, eyes wide. "The rope!" _

_That was all I had said, but Jess understood completely. "I know," he said. "How are we going to get back to Terabithia?" _

_My hand came up to my chin, a habit I had developed from my dad, as I began to think. It definitely was a problem; the rope broke under my weight... was I really that fat? How could that kind of rope break... "It was the evil dark master," I mused. _

"_Huh?" _

"_How could a rope like that break on its own?" I replied. _

"_I thought we were thinking about how to get across the 'river'," he said. _

_I grinned. "We'll come back to that, keep up, Jess Aarons," I replied. "How could a rope like the one to Terabithia break?" _

"_Rain?" Jess suggested. _

"_You know better than that," I said. "It must have been a sabotage by the Dark Master. He must have known we were helping the Terabithians and wanted to stop us from helping them rise up. He's so clever." _

"_Makes sense," Jess said. "He'll have won, if we don't find a way back." _

_I nodded. "So, we need a safe way to get across the river," I squeezed my pillow in between my arms. _

"_A bridge?" Jess suggested. _

_I clapped my hands together. "That's brilliant, Jess!" I exclaimed. "But how can we build a bridge?" I stopped. "Wait a second, Dad has a lot of spare wood. He won't mind us using that."_

"_And my dad has tools," Jess continued. "We could probably make one, if we did it after school every night!" _

_That would be so cool; a bridge... "We have got to do that..." I said. _

"_So," Jess said, obviously feeling uncomfortable throughout the silence. "How have you been?" _

_I laughed. "I've been in a coma," I winked. _

"_Yeah, I know," he replied. "But, what's it like, is it like being asleep, or something?"_

_Actually, that's a pretty good question. "I'm not sure," I told him. "It's a bit like being asleep, but I feel tired even now I'm awake. I shouldn't do; I've been asleep for days, but I feel like I need to go to bed! It's so weird." _

"_How are you, now?"_

"_Actually, other than being tired, I'm all right," I replied. "Bit of a headache, and this..." I held out my arm, which had a bandage on it. "It itches," I explained to him. "It itches like mad." _

"_You had a nasty fall," Jess told me. His face looked slightly green as he remembered it. "There was a heck of a lot of blood, too."_

_I shivered. "Blood really creeps me out," I mused. "How's school been? Any work from Mrs. Myers?" _

"_Not really, she's been pretty nice lately," Jess explained. "Scott hasn't laid off, at all, but what do you expect?"_

"_Yeah, that's just who he is," I sighed. _

_The day wore on, and all Jess and I did was talk. It was weird; I felt like I had been gone a very long time. It wasn't like the coma was a second long, it felt like I had awoken thousands of years later..._

**A/N: Well, there's the first chapter. Basically, all I did was let you know that this was a continuation of the first one, Frequency. However, you don't need to have read the first. If you haven't read Frequency, then this should have given you enough information.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed the first chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2: Endurance

**A/N: Hello again. **

**Thanks to my reviewers who came over from Frequency, I hope you like this one as much as you apparently liked the last. Also, updates won't be as quick as Frequency, because I just started 6th form and I've been working, as well. **

**Also, to MadTom, every boy goes through a slasher film phase, at least every kid I know (including myself). Whether they actually like them or not, Jess could be pretending to impress Leslie (I know that is the case for some kids), is immaterial. Also, I don't think Jess is laid back, I think he is shy and anxious. At least, that's how I imagine the character. Perhaps I am misunderstanding you. **

**Warning, as a Brit, I don't know too much about the American Education system, so please forgive me if I'm wrong about something (feel free to let me know in a review), or if I'm particularly vague.**

**Anyway, on to the next chapter. **

**Chapter 2: Endurance**

**xJx**

"Well, time for another 'great' day at school for me, Jess Aarons, the schools favourite target," I muttered into the steering wheel.

My name is Jess Aarons. Unfortunately, I am sixteen years old. Why so unfortunate? Well, as a sixteen year old, it means that I am a junior at high school. And why is that so bad? Because every sixteen year old for Lark Creek and beyond attends Tristitia High school, which just so happens to be on its second year of worst place on the planet...

"Don't say that, Jess," came Leslie's voice, as reply.

There was the thing that made school bearable. In fact, it was the thing that made everything bearable. Leslie Burke: a blonde haired, blue eyed, about five foot six kid. Does that sound average? Maybe. But Leslie was far from average. In fact, she was one of a kind. She wasn't just Leslie Burke to me, she was Queen Leslie of Terabithia. It sounds very dramatic and childish when you put it like that, but no one deserved the title more. Leslie could create worlds, something no one else could do.

Other than Leslie, the only thing I like is my truck... thing. It's the one my dad used to drive, and he gave it to me once I could drive. It's old, really old, and rusty, but it's mine. That's a big deal to me. Heck, it's a big deal to most teenagers; I've seen other kids treat their cars better than themselves. It's an old pick up truck, with a makeshift seat in the back where Leslie, May Belle and I used to sit on the journeys to and from church.

"I'm just not in the mood today," I muttered. "Mondays are always tough."

"You're telling me," Leslie replied. She was staring out of the window and seemed to be amazed with the world going by. She's the same age as me, but in a lot of ways she's like a little kid. "We have chemistry first thing, right?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"Damn," she groaned. "I was hoping I was wrong."

Neither one of us was a science person. Leslie, of course, was top of the year in anything involving writing, but she couldn't stand "boring" subjects that involved maths or knowledge; it "dampened her creative spirit", which was an expression her parents used. I hated them, too, but I was not good at anything like Leslie was; I didn't have any excuse...

"Well, here we are," I said, as the set of buildings grew ahead of us.

"So, are you going to go into your..." she paused dramatically, "act now?"

I grinned. My "act" wasn't really an act, just another one of my failures... I really, really, really don't like crowds. But it's more than that. I feel really uncomfortable around other people, and I felt even more uncomfortable when speaking; I was the centre of attention. Because of this, I rarely spoke at school. Leslie described this silence as "the act". "It's probably a good thing," I told her as we drove through the gate. "If I don't say much, then I won't say something that will make someone set my truck on fire."

"You don't need to worry about that," she started. I turned to look at her, confused. "The 'jocks' at this school couldn't light a match, not enough brain cells."

"That's true," I nodded.

Leslie had hit on a topic that was a real problem. I've never been able to figure out exactly why, but I've always been (like I said) a target for people bigger. I'm not tall, or wide, so maybe it was that. I'm a fast runner, but sports like football were, and still are, way out of my league. Maybe people just dislike my face. Whatever it was, people have given me a hard time ever since I can remember. The 'Jocks' were the ones who had the biggest problem with me. Leslie knew it, but there was nothing she could do about it.

"Is all clear?" Leslie asked, after a second. She watched me look around for people nearby, and was never short of a comment.

"Looks like it," I replied, not surprised by her knowing what I was thinking. Without thinking any more on it, I got out of my truck and swung my bag over my shoulder.

Tristitia High School, like the rest of Tristitia and Lark Creek, was run down. Not so run down it was falling apart, but, as Leslie had said, "it reeked with age". There were two buildings, each was two floors high, with a car park outside. We had arrived early, so very few students were here. There were a few hanging out at their cars, and a few walking around. Compared to normal, it was deserted. You'd be surprised how many people could live in our county, but since all the kids went here, it was pretty full.

The problem with having so many damn people was you got every kind of kid. The smartest nerd to the dumbest pot-head. I felt like I was in some T.V show... I hate it here.

"What are we doing after school, then?" Leslie asked, standing next to me as I locked up. "Any plans?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, other than work," I told her.

I helped my dad after school at our shop: Aarons' hardware. I didn't get paid for it, obviously, but Dad did give me gas money for my work. We're not rich. But then, no one is around these parts.

"Knowing the teachers we have today, our evening will be occupied," she continued. I looked at her, confused. "Homework."

I nodded. "Terabithia?"

"Yep."

Terabithia, once a place where we escaped into the world Leslie had crafted, was now the place we spent all of our time doing everything. Most of the time, we would sit in the tree house (scratch that, "the ruins"): Leslie would read, I'd draw or just... well, look at her, I suppose. I spent a lot of my time telling Leslie to write a book, but she wouldn't. She always responded with something like "That's our place", which was a nice thing to hear. However, with her mind, she could make money by the bucket load.

"People would like you if you spoke to them," Leslie told me, like she always did when she was reminded of the way I was.

"I doubt that," I responded.

"Well, I do," Leslie replied.

"You're different," I told her. After a few seconds of no response, I turned to her: she had her eyebrow raised in a 'what do you mean' sort of way. "You a heck of a lot better person than everyone here."

Leslie smiled. "Thanks," she replied. "I'm not, though."

Why does she always do that? I'd seen other girls do it on the T.V, on the rare time that I turned that thing on, but I don't know how to reply. Should I argue about how special Leslie is? That sounds insane... Not wanting to screw up, which I definitely would if I opened my mouth, I kept my trap shut.

"Where are we headed?" Leslie asked.

"No idea," I replied.

Leslie laughed. "Library?"

I nodded.

We arrived early every day, so we knew the places that we could go. For such a "run down" school, the library was pretty well stocked. Leslie loved it, she loved reading and read more than anyone I had ever seen. Not just fantasy, any fiction she could get her hands on. Even boring stuff that was well above my head, like Dickens and Shakespeare. She also read poetry; she had poems by Blake, I think, on her wall in her bedroom. He was her favourite, he said he saw angels... not sure if she believes it, but she definitely loves everything that he wrote. Because of that, she often uses a lot of long words that I don't know.

The Library was a single floor, nothing fancy there, but there were lots of rows of shelves, and tables all around the room with chairs around. Other than us, there were about ten kids in here, plus a few teachers and librarians. By the look on their faces, they were cramming for an exam. Luckily, I have no exams, otherwise I would look like them. Nothing ever sunk into my head, so I wasn't even close to a high flier, or a low flier, in any subject.

Leslie was always shocked that I didn't come top in art, and gets annoyed with the teacher (she would probably go up to our teacher, Mrs. Daniels, if I didn't stop her) when I don't get top marks. Since I never do, she gets annoyed pretty often. My problem with art lessons is I don't like being told what to draw; it takes all the enjoyment out of it. At least, I think that's why I suck.

I was with Leslie for a few of our lessons: Chemistry, English, Maths and Art. The other lessons were unbearable, I couldn't even try to listen without her encouraging me. "Over here, then," she said, pointing toward a spot in the corner of the room. That was where we always sat, as far away from the door as possible.

As soon as we sat at the table, or hands went to our school bags. Mine came out with my notepad, and hers came out with a book. I had to tilt my head to see which one, and she gave a me a funny look before holding the cover up: "Emma- Jane Austen".

"Jane Austin," I read aloud. "English, right?"

"Uh huh," she said, laying it on the table and opening it at the 'dog ear'.

"Not too patriotic," I grinned.

"Sorry America," she said, in her drama voice, "England has defeated you when it comes to writers."

I got my pencil set out of my bag. Leslie had bought it for me a couple of weeks ago when someone... took my other ones. "What you drawing?" she asked, the second my pencil had touched the paper.

"Not sure," I replied.

"Just don't tear it up," she warned, "regardless of what it is. OK?"

"OK," I replied.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Most things I drew since I started High School came out wrong, they were never right! Something would make it look terrible. When I finished a drawing, I would swear, then tear tear it up and throw it into the nearest bin. This seemed to upset Leslie, and she scolded me whenever I did it. After the first few times, she ended up distracting me just before I finished it and stealing it. This was usually followed by her telling me that: "your drawings are important, Jess!" or "that's a gateway to your soul, right there!"

**xXx**

"Jess Aarons', are you listening to me?" came the harsh voice of my teacher, Mr. Kelly.

"Yes, Mr. Kelly," I replied.

Chemistry class: one of the worst, most boring lessons of all. Other than maths and physics, this was the worst. It would probably be worse than those two if it wasn't for the fact that Leslie was sitting beside me. It was the worst because of a particularly scolding teacher called Mr. Kelly. Leslie and I had tried to invent a name for him, like our old teacher Mrs. Myers. But, as Leslie had said, "no words could describe such a dark shade."

"Well, what is the molecular formula of the acid, Sodium sulfate?" he asked, smiling smugly, knowing he had got me.

Shit, I thought. I have no idea! "Na2SO4," a soft whisper came, from beside me.

"Na2SO4," I told him, trusting Leslie to be correct.

"Correct," he said, but still looking smug. "But since you don't have the brains to come up with it yourself, and listening to Ms. Burke, you can stay behind at your lunch break and read about it. Understand me?"

The class laughed around me, and I felt my face redden with anger and embarrassment. "Yes, Mr. Kelly."

My gaze hit the table in front of me. "Well, before Aarons so rudely interrupted, we were talking about anhydrous salts," he continued.

Damn him, I growled from inside my head. "Sorry, Jess," came another soft whisper, though this one sounded incredibly guilty.

Instead of replying, knowing that Mr. Kelly wanted me to complain so he could punish me more severely, I wrote in the margin of my page: "Not your fault, he wanted to get me..." Even my teachers didn't like me... what on heck had I done to him? He punished me for getting the answer right! I'm not sure he even knew Leslie had told me the answer, he just knew I was too stupid to get the answer, so if I got it right I had to be cheating.

The rest of the lesson passed by in an angry blur. I tried to pay attention, so if he tried to get me again I would be ready, but nothing was sinking again. Maybe I deserved it... if I was too stupid to get it then I deserved to be punished. Luckily, Mr. Kelly didn't talk to me again, he must have got his daily "kick Jess whilst he's down" with our last encounter.

Leslie wasn't happy, and once we were out of Kelly's rage, outside the classroom, she voiced it. She probably hadn't said anything in the classroom because she knew Kelly would blame me. "He's a monster," she said, crossing her arms.

I nodded. "I mean," she continued, knowing I wouldn't respond, "you gave the right answer! It doesn't matter how you got it! I mean, he only knows what sodium sulfate is because some book told him! Don't you think?"

I nodded again. "Come on, Jess," she exclaimed, raising her arms in the air. "You must be as exasperated as I am!"

"I am," I told her. "Just no point getting worked up."

She shook her head and sighed. "I'm sure you will talk about it later," she said. She's right there. I was less annoyed than others would be, but I have a skin against these things. I'm so used to people getting at me that it just flies over me.

After holding in everything for another half a minute, Leslie continued. "But it doesn't make any sense!" she exclaimed, again exasperated. "He knew that I had helped you, so I had helped you cheat! I'm an accomplice! Why didn't he punish me?"

We looked at each other, and knew the answer to that one.

In a weird way, I was glad Leslie was annoyed. It was nice to have someone care, especially when the person who cares is the person you care for more than anyone else... if that makes any sense.

**xXx**

Not a lot happens at school, and after coming out of my last lesson (history) I sighed with boredom. Well, at least it's the end of the day. My detention with Mr. Kelly wasn't eventful, they never were. He just slammed a book on the table, told me to get on with reading it and answer the questions. I read through it, and answered the questions. After getting 12/15, which was surprisingly good for me, he let me go. The bastard only insulted me when there was an audience to watch him.

Unfortunately, Leslie wasn't with me for history. She was in the other block, so we always met by the truck at the end of the day. This meant I had to walk through the halls of this school alone, an isolated target.

The thing about halls is they seem to become a battlefield where kids fight their way to be the toughest. Everyone will not move out of the way for anyone else, forcing their shoulders into each others. Leslie had said that it was like wildlife and I agree with her. No weakness...

"Hey, Aarons," a voice said behind me.

Next thing I knew, my shoulder was hit by something hard and the floor came up to meet my face. Most people would be shocked but, again, this was normal; I knew exactly what had happened. Then, I heard the familiar sound of laughter. "Nice one," a voice laughed.

I looked up to see the "jocks" that Leslie had mentioned, the ones who didn't have any brain cells. Well, she was right on the money there. This was the worst part, being surrounded by people. What to do now? People were interested at seeing someone hurt...

Leslie had told me not to give them the satisfaction of retaliating, but I couldn't retaliate, anyway. There were several of them. When I looked up at them again, I saw a familiar, overly smug face of Scott, a kid who had never given me an easy time and never will. "Likin' the floor?" he asked, 'yucking it up' with his pack.

"What's going on?" a voice from behind Scott said. It was an adult, so naturally the crowd scattered. The adult was a maths teacher called Mr. Arnold. He was notorious for being a bit dumb, even though he was a teacher.

"Jess fell over," Scott told him, looking back at me.

"Oh," he replied, living up to his image. "All right then." That was all he said, before disappearing back into his room. However useless his interaction seemed, people had cleared off.

"Come on, Aarons," Scott said, "no need to fall over."

His gang walked passed me, leaving on the floor, grinding my teeth with anger. Just as I tried to get out, one of them stamped down on my foot. Bastards...

"See you tomorrow, Aarons," Scott called back as he walked away, followed by another laugh from his 'friends'.

**A/N: Hope you're still enjoying it. I had to let you know how Jess felt in school and, if you missed it, how important Leslie's "life lessons" are to Jess. If you notice, he always relies on Leslie's input. Anyway, hope you like the chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3: Edward

**A/N: For anyone who has read my other stories, this Edward wasn't involved in those timelines, nor is his back story the same. I just like the name ^^**

**Chapter 3: Edward**

"Come on, Jess!" I called from the seat in the back of the truck.

He was walking through the car park, as he always did, but there was a strange limp about him. I hopped out of the seat and headed over to him, concerned. Was he hurt again? "What happened to you?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied briskly, walking past me.

"Jess," I sighed, before following him to the car. "It was Scott and the horde again, wasn't it." I

"Look, it was nothing," he repeated, avoiding my eyes like he always did when he had something to hide. Jess Aarons was a boy of many talents, but lying (if you could consider it a talent) was not one of them. He sucked. Walking over to my side of the car and hopping in, I continued. "You have got to do something about him," I mused, watching him, waiting for him to avoid eye contact.

"I told you, it's nothing!" he snapped.

Not wanting to upset him, it wasn't his fault that people were unnecessarily cruel to him, I kept my big mouth shut tight.

He sighed, heavily, before igniting the car heading out of the lot. "Look," he said, after a second. "Don't worry about it."

Jess didn't know this, but it really pained me to see anything bad happen to him. His evasiveness didn't make me feel any better. If anything, it made me feel worse. "Look," he said, his voice sounding softer. "We got to get home, quickly.

I raised my eyebrow.

"It's nothing dramatic," he grinned. "I want to go with you went you walk P.T, and I've got to get to work soon."

I smiled back. I had to take P.T for a walk every day before and after school and Jess came with me every time, to my joy, unless he couldn't. We usually he head out of Terabithia and sit in the ruins, letting PT run around.

I've got to keep the topic off school, now. Gee, Jess was a high maintenance character. He seemed particularly down in the dumps today, so I didn't really want to leave him on his own for too long. "Can I come," I asked.

"Huh?"

"To work, with you," I told him. Come on, Jess, keep up!

"Why?"

Couldn't he just say "yes" to anything? "I've go nothing else to do," I lied, I had quite a bit of homework and studying to do. Truth be told, I just wanted to spend time with him.

"Really?" he asked.

Damn, had he figured it out? "I have a bit to do," I admitted. "But we both have it, from chemistry. We can do it at Terabithia, later."

"School work at Terabithia," Jess laughed. Jess thought about it for a second. "Of course you can come," Jess answered, after a while. "But don't blame me if you are bored out of your mind!"

I won't be, I thought to myself and smiled.

"How was your detention, then?" I asked, not being able to help myself. "Did he give you a bad time?" I hated that man and how he treats Jess, he deserves to get ripped apart by a pack of Squogers! Or something like that.

"Not really," Jess replied, as we turned the corner to the long road back to Lark Creek. "He just gave some questions which I think were to do with the lesson, but who knows?"

"I'm guessing you did well, because you're still alive," I said.

He nodded. "Yeah, I didn't good enough," he sighed. "He'll be on my back again next lesson, just you watch!"

I thought about that comment. "Well," I said, after a pause. "You know what I think about Science."

"Yeah," he replied. "You have writing, though..." he trailed off.

"Oh, come on, Jess," I sighed. "I've never seen anyone draw half as well as you!" Jess had a self loathing, self critical personality. At least that was what Psychology lessons had taught me. It was really upsetting to see him when he went into these phases.

"That's not true," he replied.

I really wanted to grab him by the shirt and slap some sense into his thick head when he got like this. "Is this about art?" I asked. "Because, if it is, our art teacher doesn't know what she's talking about!"

Jess made a strange, humming sound in disbelief and left it at that.

xJx

Another day... another long, boring, horrible day.

"So, if sulfuric acid reacts with potassium hyrdoxide, what two molecules are formed?" came a soft voice from far away.

"Huh?" I mumbled, shaking my head.

"Jess," Leslie moaned from beside me. "We're driving, you can't be asleep in the car!"

"I wasn't asleep, I was day dreaming," I grinned, correcting her. "So, what was the question again."

We were on our way back to school, and Leslie, in an attempt to protect me from "the wrath of the shadow", was trying to help me with acids and bases. Despite hating science, being the brilliant mind that she was, found her way through.

Leslie sighed. "Pay attention, you goof ball," she said. "Sulfuric acid plus potassium hyrdroxide becomes...?" her voice trailed up, waiting for the answer.

"I think I know this one," I replied. "Er... is it Potassium Sulphate and water?"

"Perfect," she explained, clapping her hands together,

"Only you would be excited about me getting a basic problem right," I told her, turning into the gates of Tristitia High School.

"Hey," she shrugged. "What can I say? That's just who I am."

"Yeah... well, I'm glad," I smiled, but was looking around again. I hated being so damn nervous all the time, but I hated that I needed to be more. I'm not paranoid, people are actually out to get me!

"You're not glad to be here again, though," she sighed. "What are we going to do with you, Jess?"

"Send me to another school, maybe," I replied, a serious response hidden in a joke. I would love to go to another school, but there weren't any, and anywhere without Leslie would be worse than this place.

"But then you wouldn't have me," she smirked, putting a lot of emphasis on the "me" part. She put the chemistry book back into her bag. "So, have you got those equations now?"

"I think so."

"So, if I said Acid plus Base, you would say...?"

"Salt plus water."

"By Jove," she joked, "I think he's got it!"

"Thanks," I said, getting out of the car after I had made sure it was parked; my parking skill were pretty good, but I didn't want someone kicking my car because I had taken up too much space. I'm sure others had there shiny, new cars ruined in these parts.

"And..." Leslie said, drawing her hands up to her face. "Scene," she finished, bringing them back down. I'm not sure exactly was this meant, or where she's got it from, but I'm pretty sure it meant that I started acting differently. She just winked at me whenever I asked her what it meant.

I hope the jocks are doing something else today, I don't want my bag thrown around, and knocked to the ground, to be my Tuesday morning wake up. We were a bit late today, I had slept in a bit; I had a headache last night, it kept me up... typical. "I'm just going to talk," Leslie hummed, walking beside me, toward the school.

"I expect nothing less, Queen," I whispered.

She pushed my shoulders. "What are you saying?" she joked.

I shrugged at her.

"Well, why did you bump in to me, cripple!" a voice shouted, followed by a chorus of cruel laughter.

The two of us looked at each other and frowned. Leslie, being a curious person, followed the sound. "Leslie, wait!" I said, but couldn't get it out loud enough for her to hear me. I could hear the voices, they were not good ones, it's not worth getting involved. That being said, I wouldn't leave Leslie alone to fend for herself. So, sighing, I followed behind her.

"It's coming from behind the corner," Leslie said. We went back out of the door, and headed to the corner. As I tried to look past, I felt her hand on my chest, and her finger came up to her lips. "Shh," she muttered. "Just peep around."

I grinned and leaned behind her. "You love making an adventure out of everything, don't you?" I whispered in her ear.

She nodded in response.

What we saw, wasn't a pretty sight at all. Scott and his horde, four in total, were surrounding one kid. The kid was lying on the four, looking up at them, with a crutch lying at his side. "I don't believe it," Leslie gasped. "How could anyone sink that low."

I clenched my fist until it shaking. Leslie was right, people who attack people who can't defend themselves are disgusting.

"I asked you a question," Scott said, crouching down in front of the boy.

The two stared at each other for a second, before something strange happened. The boy, instead of answering, spat in Scott's face. "What the fuck?" Scott shouting, staggering back. The horde started to laugh. "Why you little..." Instead of finishing the sentence, Scott's foot collided with the kid's stomach, he gasped, but did not back down. He just sat there, staring at Scott.

"We've got to do something," Leslie gasped, leaning forward.

I caught her by the arm. "Don't be stupid." Her mouth fell open in response, but I interrupted her before she could speak again. "You don't even know him, and we can't put ourselves in danger for someone we don't even know."

"But..."

"I don't like it any more than you do," I sighed.

"Oh, a fighter are you?" Scott said, his pride hurt. This returned us back to the nasty scene of the truth of Tristitia High School. He wiped his face, laughed, then kicked the kid again, and again. Until, on the forth kick, the kid collapsed down.

"Nice one, Scott," a boy behind him chortled.

Scott bent down and picked up the kids bag. He turned it up side down, emptying it of its content, and kicked it away. "Welcome to Tristitia High School," Scott laughed, leaving the kid and heading off with his horde, luckily in the opposite direction, laughing about there action.

"Disgusting," I growled.

Leslie, not replying, ran towards the boy before I could stop her. Man, there was no stopping that girl; she was too nice for her own good. "Les!" I hissed after her. "Didn't I say not to get involved?" It was no use, though. When she got into these moods, it's like trying to stop a bulldozer.

"The horde has gone," she called back. "No reason not to do something now."

She was right, but what if they came back? By the time I had thought about it, Leslie was already at the kid's side. Not wanting to leave her alone again, I rushed after her.

"Are you OK?" Leslie asked, crouching down in front of the boy.

Now that I was closer, I could tell that there was something definitely weird about him. It was something about his face. If I had been attacked like that, and I had experienced it, too, I would be furious. On the other hand, his face was completely blank. No fear, no anger... nothing, it was blank and emotionless.

He didn't reply to Leslie, or even react to the presence of the two of us. It was as though we weren't there.

"Hello?" Leslie repeated, raising her eyebrow curiously. She reached over to touch his shoulder. "Are you there?"

Smack. His hand flew up and swatted Leslie's away. "Don't touch me," he growled. His face didn't change, and he didn't look at either of us.

"Hey," I growled back, clenching my fist. "You can't..."

I would have continued at the kid, how dare he attack Leslie, but she nudged. Confused, I held my tongue and left this up to her. I continued to clench my fists, though, wanting to strike him for laying a hand on my queen. I'm not a violent person, but I couldn't help but be protective of Leslie.

Leslie, instead of leaving, reached over to his crutch, which lay a bit away from him. She took it, and lay it in front of him. "Did they take the other one?" she asked, in a soft voice.

This time, the boy reacted. He turned and looked right at Leslie. His face was still emotionless, but there was a flash of something. I couldn't tell what it was, but it looked a bit like confusion. However, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Why was she being so nice to him? He'd just told her not to touch him. "No," he said, after a second. Like his face, his voice was blank, deeper than mine, and didn't give any indication to how he was feeling.

"You only have one?" I blurted out, confused.

He looked at me, this time. He had very, very blue eyes. "No," was all he said.

He reached forward and grabbed his bag. Leslie, rushing to help him, picked up some of the books, which were strewn across the floor. He looked packed to Leslie when she handed them to him and frowned, the first sign he had shown that he wasn't some sort of robot. He grabbed his crutch and forced himself to his feet. Without any thanks, or goodbye, he turned and headed away from us, limping heavily.

When he was out of earshot, I shook my head to make sure I was wide awake. "What the heck?" I muttered. "Why did you help him?"

"Hey," she looked at me and smiled. "I was new once."

Yeah, I thought, but you weren't like that.

**xLx**

Wow, Jess was right, that was really strange. I was in Physics, now, and I was mulling over the short interaction I had with the boy with the crutch. We were five minutes in and our teacher, the stern Mrs. Stone, was giving her usual start of the lesson lecture on the importance of Physics. I've never understood why she did this every lesson. However, she was in her stride now, so there was no stopping her.

He'd spat right into Scott's face. I mean, that's just plain insanity! Who would do that when they are being attacked? Maybe he just didn't get scared... he didn't seem to feel anything else. Maybe he was a robot from the future, that would make sense, and I've seen a lot of movies like that. Scratch that, robots can't spit.

Physics was strange for me, without Jess, people seemed to gravitate towards me. Especially, unfortunately, the guys. Most girls would be flattered by the attention, but I don't want Jess to think I'm interested in anyone else. Maybe that would mean he would get someone, and I couldn't have that. The two of us are meant to be with each other...

"So, reviewing last..." Mrs. Stone began, but was stopped mid sentence; the door had swung open.

Seriously... what were the chances? It was the boy from earlier, standing at the door, looking the same as he had. His eyes scanned the room and stopped on me. It wasn't until now that I had noticed that those eyes were a piercing blue, it was quite uncomfortable, but I couldn't look away. When the silence continued, Mrs. Stone lost her temper. "And you are...?"

The boy didn't answer immediately, he just looked to the teacher. "I'm late," was his answer, to a collective giggle from the class.

"No, your name." Mrs. Stone almost spat, impatiently. She shook her head. "What do you want, then?"

"I'm in your class, apparently," he said, not phased at all by Mrs. Stone's anger or tone.

"Right," she said, glad she had got something out of him. "Name?"

He looked back over to me. "Edward Johnson," he said, but it felt like he was talking to me, instead of the teacher. I couldn't tell what I thought of him, he was quite scary, but also seemed incredibly interesting. Did that make me a weirdo, too?

"OK, I'll check the system," Mrs. Stone said, before heading over to her millennia old computer.

It wasn't 'til then that I realized the class was chatting amongst itself and laughing between them. I didn't have to be plugged in to realise what the problem was. Edward Johnson sure didn't dress like, or look, like someone from this school, or any other school. His hair was short, but really, really, really messy, sticking out in every direction. His clothes were too long for him, which wasn't helped by the fact that he was very thin. He had a leather jacket on, which was black, and seemed to be the only thing he wore that was meant for him. His crutch was the only new thing in his attire, and I still couldn't figure out why he only had one.

"Yeah, you're definitely here," Mrs. Stone said after a minute of looking. "Well, welcome to my class. Now, we need to find you a seat."

It wasn't until now that I noticed the chair beside me was unoccupied. Uh oh... "Over there, in that chair," she pointed at it. "Next to Leslie."

Well, what are the odds of that? Edward Johnson looked over to me again, looking slightly amused for a split second. I wonder what Jess will think of this? Edward pulled the chair out and fell down into the chair. "Is that all right, then?" Mrs. Stone asked, but she was obviously still annoyed he had interrupted her.

"Yeah, it's fine," Edward replied.

I don't think Mrs. Stone liked Edward that much. "Hello, again," I said to him, smiling. Like I had said, I was the new kid once, and I really hated being it.

He didn't reply to this, either. He just looked at me, looking more confused. After a second or two, he tapped his fingers on the table and said: "You're really weird."

I blinked, confused. "Excuse me?" I said.

"You heard me," he said, face reverting to its emotionless version.

"Why would you say that?" I asked.

He looked back to his bag and lay his book on the table. "You don't follow the crowd," he put, simply.

This just made me more confused. "Why do you think that?"

He looked up at me again, this time looking slightly amused. "Well, you tried to help me earlier," he explained, drumming his fingers on the table again. "Even when I slapped you away, you continued to be nice."

"That's not being weird," I laughed. "That's being nice."

He raised his eyebrow. "Same thing." I opened my mouth to respond to that, but he continued. "And you didn't laugh at my clothes when I walked in, even though everyone else did."

I opened my mouth again to be interrupted. This time it was not by Edward Johnson, but by Mrs. Stone. "Are you two quite finished?" she asked.

"Yes," I quickly said, not wanting to get on Mrs. Stone's bad side.

Edward didn't say anything else, he just opened his notebook and stared at the empty pages. So, this is the school's latest edition, the unlucky, strangely dressed, emotionless Edward Johnson. Poor guy, it must suck to be sent to this school!

**A/N: Well, there we are, Chapter 3. I'm sorry it took so long to update, but there's not a lot I can do about it. If you are enjoying the story, or have any points that you'd like to make, make sure you review**


	4. Chapter 4: Nothing

**Chapter 4: Nothing**

**A/N: Hope this is worth the wait =].**

**Also, I'd like to hear your thoughts on Edward, in your review. He's a very important character in this series. **

**xJx**

"Come on, Leslie!" I called toward Leslie's house.

"Hold it, hold it," came the reply. "It's windy; I'm getting my coat!"

It was windy today. The trees were being pushed to the side and my hair was blowing into my eyes. There was probably going to be a storm. I don't like the rain, it traps me inside, and I'm trapped inside all the time at school.

"I'm ready!" I heard, and watched Leslie walk down her drive toward me.

Wow... wait, what? Leslie looked different... Leslie had her usual clothes on, with a longer, red jacket to protect her from the chill of the wind. It couldn't be the coat. As she walked towards me, her hair flew back behind her. When she was younger, her hair was short, but as she got older, it grew longer, and now almost reached the small of her back. The locks looked a like a golden cape, floating along behind her...

"What are you looking at?" she asked, but her voice sounded far away. "Jess?" she asked, "you there, buddy?" She waved her hand in front of my face.

I shook my head. "Sorry about that," I said, just as confused as she was.

"Anyway," she raised her eyebrow, "let's go."

I nodded and walked beside her.

As we've got older, the walk to Terabithia has become smaller. Makes sense (we've got bigger), but I think there's more to it than that. Maybe it was metaphorical, we've needed it more as we've waded through the years of school, so we're closer to it, all the time. I don't know, my head doesn't work like that!

'Nothing Crushes Us!'

Those were the words that we had written on the bridge we had built. It was true... the two of us, together, could handle anything.

Leslie took a deep breath as we crossed. "This place makes me so peaceful," she sighed, staring, absent mindedly, out into the forest that had been our home since we had met.

"I know what you mean," came my reply, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. Even in the worst days of my life, when relatives died, when people beat me up, Leslie made me forget about everything else. I don't know what I'd be like without her.

"Come on," she said, suddenly, breaking the silence. She ran ahead of me.

It was always nice to see her happy, it cheered me up to no end. She was still faster than me, all these years later. I sprinted after her, watching the trees fly by me. All dreads of the following day were gone, now; I was totally engrossed in the world of Terabithia.

Leslie came to a stop like she had started, instantly. We arrived in a clearing that I could draw from memory to perfect detail; I'd seen it that many times! It was the clearing which contained our castle. The 'ruins' that we had built up, step by step, from a humble tree house to a place we could almost live in. The 'wall' that once only had a painting I had drawn of Terabithia, was now plastered with pictures that Leslie had stolen and wouldn't let me tear down.

Leslie stepped out in front of me and spread her arms out beside her. "Fear not, Terabithians," she called, angling her head up toward the sky; she'd (and I) had always loved theatrics, but only here. "Your king and queen have returned!"

The trees shook, in response; even the wind replied to her. She looked round to me, a grin plastered across her face. She then nodded, cuing me.

"Err, err..." I stammered, caught on the spot. Usually, I could do this sort of thing pretty well. No where near as good as Leslie, but competent. For some reason, I just couldn't do it today; I guess I was distracted...

She sighed. "Sorry, subjects," she grinned. "King Jesse is not a very good speaker today."

The trees shook again, but like they were laughing at me. "Thanks, Terabithians," I grumbled.

Leslie laughed, then headed over to the ruins and moved up the makeshift ladder we had made. She'd got pretty skill-full, and climbed with one hand (her book in the other). I'd fallen off that ladder so many times I've lost count.

When we were atop, we collapsed against a wall, each. With Leslie on one side and me on the other. That was that. "What are you going to draw, then?" Leslie asked, after a second of finding her page.

I stared at the empty sheet in my notebook. "I'm not sure," I replied, scratching my head. I haven't been able to draw anything even semi decent for a long while.

I looked up to see Leslie engaged in her book. Most people at Tristitia frown when they read, as if it's a strain to do it (I'm not going to lie, I'm the same), but Leslie looked like a combination an amused face and a content one. She would read four, or five, hundred page books (that I doubt any of the teachers could) in days and move onto the next one.

"You know that boy we helped, earlier," Leslie said, after a while.

I looked over to her, confused. "Yeah," I said. "But we didn't really help him, he didn't want anything."

"True," she replied, still looking at the book, her eyes skimming the words. "Well, he's in my physics class."

I frowned, where was she going with this? "OK."

"He's pretty weird," Leslie said, looking up now.

Leslie didn't often say things like this, so I'm guessing he must have been weirder than our brief encounter. "Wait..." I mused. "How do you know?"

"Mrs. Stone put him next to me," she explained.

I didn't like the sound of that, not at all. After all, he had slapped her hand away from him the same day. I didn't want someone like that within a hundred kilometres of Leslie. "Err..." I stammered. "What was he like, then?"

Leslie grinned. "He didn't slap me again, don't worry."

I smiled, she's a damn mind reader.

"Well..."

Leslie went on to explain what had happened. Basically, he had come in to a laugh from the class because of how he looked. However, his response wasn't like a kid. He just looked emotionless, not embarrassed or angry. Mrs. Stone made him sit next to Leslie, and they had a short conversation, where he had called her weird. "Wait," I said, stopping her. "He called you weird."

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Why?" I frowned. I mean, Leslie has been called weird by a lot of people. I'm glad of that; I'm so glad she isn't like everyone else. "I mean, did he say anything else."

"Well, when most people call me weird, it's because of my clothes, hair or a million other things," she explained. I bit my lip at that one, even though I'm glad she's different, I hate that people say it to her. "He said I was weird because I was nice..." she frowned.

"You're right," I nodded. She looked at me, confused. "The kid's not right in the head."

She laughed. "He didn't smile, or show any emotion at all, though," Leslie continued. "You'd think that you would look embarrassed, or something, if you call someone weird, right to there face. Or laugh..."

I nodded.

"Anyway," she said, shaking her head. "Any idea on any of the ol' Jess Aarons art?"

I shook my head.

She got up and walked over to me. "Come on, Jess," she said, plopping herself beside me.

I put the pencil behind my ear. "Haven't you got a book to read?" I joked.

She nodded. "I have, but it's not going anywhere," she retorted, grinning.

"Oh, all right," I replied.

After a second or two, Leslie started searching through her bag. "Well, if you really do have nothing to do," she said, sticking her tongue out. "Then you do have this..." she pulled a Chemistry book out.

"No," I groaned. "Not that, anything but that!"

She dropped it onto the ground, making a thud that could only be from a science book. "Well, you better get drawing, then!" she finished, before reading her book again.

And we sat there, like we do. My pencil, after a while, touched the paper and I started to draw. I didn't really think about it, and I ended up drawing Tristitia. It was a bit like school, but modified. The edges of the school were spires, and the students were demons, scurrying around. It looked like a castle, as opposed to a school. Fitting, really.

I continued to draw, shading in areas and hardening lines, as it started to get a little dark. Then, after a while, I felt something on my shoulder. I looked over to see Leslie; she was leaning on me, he headed at an angle, resting on my shoulder, but still engaged in her book. I felt my cheeks warm and coughed, embarrassed.

She didn't move, so I leaned forward and looked at her face. I found myself smiling, after; she was asleep. My head started spinning: what should I do? Should I wake her? No, I found myself replying. So, instead of shaking her, I leaned back against the wall and looked up into the sky (the roof of our tree house definitely wasn't in good shape).

School may be pretty crappy, but this is worth suffering for.

**xLx**

"I really can't believe I fell asleep last night!" I laughed.

We were in Jess's truck, heading to school again. I don't really know what happened last night, but I know I woke up from being asleep on Jess's shoulder. Pretty normal, I guess. But you know what's great? He didn't move me!

"Hey," he shrugged, turning a corner. "It was a long day."

"I couldn't sleep when I got home," I told him. "It's so dull, just lying there!"

"Yeah, I get that," he replied. "What time did you get to sleep?"

Good old mindless drivel; I found myself grinning. "Not sure," I admitted. "Probably about one, ish.."

"Oh," I said, after a second. "I took your drawing, from last night."

"Seriously?" he gasped. "I thought I put it back in my bag."

"You did," I winked. "I went through and took it. It was a good one," I continued, when he looked shocked. "I couldn't let you throw it away." He bit his lip. I sighed. "That's exactly what you were planning, wasn't it?"

He nodded, guiltily. "Jess!" I complained, pushing him.

He laughed. "Physics first thing, right?" he asked.

I nodded. "I wonder what Edward Johnson will say today?" I mused. "He'll probably call me weird again."

"You are weird," Jess said, not taking his eyes off the road. After a few seconds of silence, he looked over to see me gawping. "Well, most people would be annoyed with someone who insulted them," he explained. "You just look interested."

"Ok," I said. "Fair enough."

Jess was right, I was interested. Heck, I guess I'm used to people calling we weird. I guess this was interesting because there was no malice when he said it. He wasn't being unkind... at least I don't think he was!

"Don't fall asleep in lesson, though," Jess commented, breaking my train of thought.

"I'll try not to," I promised. "It's more likely going to happen in physics. I can't believe I fell asleep in Terabithia, but I can certainly believe that I could fall asleep in the horrible, lifeless world of equations and numbers!"

xLx

"Been mulling over what I said?"

I had only just got into Mrs. Stone's room, and Edward greets me in this way. Beginners luck, I guess. "What do you mean?" I asked. I knew exactly what the guy meant, though.

He looked at me as I sat down, with his blank stare. I'm probably starting to repeat myself about that, now, but its the thing that you notice. Not many people can show an emotionless face, little own act emotionless all of the time. To be honest, I find myself feeling sorry for him.

"You know exactly what I mean," he retorted. Again, it sounds threatening like this, but it wasn't...

I shook my head.

"Fine," he said and returned to scribbling on a sheet of paper in front of him.

I got out my books and lay them on the table, but I was interested in this situation. "Why did you say that?" I asked. He stopped scribbling.

"I told you yesterday," he replied.

Oh, so we were on the same page! "No, I don't mean why I'm weird..."

"So you did know what I meant," he interrupted, still not taking his eyes of the paper in front of him. Despite that, he seemed to be engaged in the conversation. Why did I feel like I was observing some sort of alien life?

"Err..." I stuttered, thinking over how to reply to that.

"It doesn't matter," he waved the thoughts away. "Continue."

"Err... OK," I said, taken aback by his bluntness. "What I was saying was: why did you say it? I mean, it's fine to think it, and you're right, but why say it?"

This time, he looked up at me. It was a weirder look than before. Instead of no emotion, there was a hint of... interest? Maybe. It's impossible to read him. "Because it's true," he said, simply. "It's not an insult."

I found myself scoffing. "Most people say weird as an insult."

"Well, I'm not 'most people'," he replied, with a slight shrug.

"That's true," I blurted out.

"And neither are you," he said. When I tried to respond, he raised his hand to stop me. "So, who's your friend?"

"You mean Jess?" I replied.

He tilted his head forward, a tiny amount, in response.

"He's my best friend," I told him.

He raised his eyebrow and I almost fell off my chair! Had I said something interesting? "Oh really," came his response. "How long have you known him?"

"Since we were little," I replied, frowning. Why did he want to know anything about me and Jess?

"So you didn't meet in high school," he said. I shook my head. "OK," was all he said on the matter, and went back to scribbling. I tried to look at what he was doing, but it was the wrong angle; his back was covering the paper.

I frowned. "So..." I muttered, feeling the awkwardness.

He didn't apparently, because he didn't even look up. "What you drawing?" I asked, craning my head to try a look.

"I don't draw," he replied, pushing the piece of paper away.

This reminded me of the time, when we were little, Jess and I were on the bus. He didn't want me see a drawing of his. I think it was a fish; my memory is seriously lacking at the moment! I should be able to remember that time, it was probably one of the most important moment of my life. "What are you doing, then?" I smiled. Being nice is the best approach, as far as I'm concerned.

"Not a lot," he replied, vaguely. He had stopped, now.

"Right, that's enough!" Mrs. Stone announced. "Your catch up session has now ended, and you should have your books and utensils out on your desk."

I guess Mrs. Stone was a good teacher, because as soon as she spoke the class fell silent. It was something about her voice, it scared most people instantly. "Now," she said, looking around the classroom. "I'm sure you'll all be pleased to know, we have a test today."

A collective groan flooded the classroom.

"Now, now..." she tutted. "There's nothing to worry about, assuming you have all worked your fair share." A few people chuckled behind me. "If you haven't, then the science department is going to come down on you like a tonne of bricks," she finished. The chuckling stopped. Like I said: good teacher; she was pretty foreboding.

She walked over to her desk and picked up a handful of papers. Damn it! I thought to myself. If there's one thing I truly can't stand, it's test in science!

When Mrs. Stone reached me and Edward, she stopped. "Edward Johnson, I don't expect you to do well, because you only just started," she said. "Try your best."

"I'm sure I'll do fine," Edward replied, staring directly into her eyes.

Mrs. Stone seemed to be a bit taken aback by this response, and looked like she was going to challenge him for a second. Then, thinking better of it, she continued her trek around the class room.

I looked over to Edward, he looked at the paper, shook his head, and pen touched paper.

Mrs. Stone, staying true to her personality, gave us a long test that spanned the entire lesson. Despite hating physics, I think I did all right. Edward, on the other hand, had finished in the first ten minutes; he must not have been able to answer many questions.

"Dismissed," Mrs. Stone concluded, after lecturing us on the importance of "periodic testing".

"How did you think that went, Edward?" I asked, as I packed all of my stuff away. "My head hurts."

He turned to me, and looked me directly in the eye. Now I understand exactly why Mrs. Stone didn't challenge his rudeness earlier; his gaze was incredibly uncomfortable. "It was fine," came his response, brief as ever.

"You finished pretty early," I commented.

"Like I said to Stone," he replied, "I'm sure I did fine."

We headed out of the door, into the torrent that was our halls; I hope Jess is all right. "Hey Leslie," a mocking, cruel voice came. "Oh, and you have another friend."

I didn't have to be Einstein to figure out that voice belonged to the king of the Squogres. Great, I sighed in my head. "Hey guys," he said, when I turned to him; he was with a couple of his horde. "Look, it's the guy from yesterday, I should have know you freaks would hit it off."

The gang chortled behind him. It was so embarrassing, to see other kids following behind a leader like animals.

"What are you looking at," came a growl. Scott's voice had changed completely. I looked to Edward, confused, and saw him staring at Scott.

"You," he replied.

Scott's lip twitched and, defending his honour, marched on Edward. Edward didn't move, or cower. He just stood there, waiting for Scott. "Are you being cheeky?" he growled.

It wasn't until now that I noticed Edward was pretty tall. Scott was about one metre ninety, a big guy, and Edward only looked up at him slightly. Edward didn't reply, he did something much more effective. He smiled.

This wasn't a normal smile. I like Edward, he seems like a nice guy (compared to Scott, at least), but this smile made me shiver. There was no kindness in this smile, and his eyes weren't happy. He looked strangely sadistic. Heck, maybe it was just me... nope, definitely not; Scott looked pretty confused.

"Come on, guys," Scott said. I looked over to his gang; they looked as confused as he was.

I looked over to Edward, impressed; he had disarmed a Squogre, with nothing but a smile...

He certainly put him in his place; I can't wait to tell Jess!

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5: Assault

**A/N: Here's another chapter for you all. The last didn't get many reviews, and I'm not sure if it was good, or not. **

**Anyway, enjoy. **

**Chapter 5: Assault **

**xJx**

"That doesn't make a lick of sense," I mused.

We were sitting beside one another, in the ruins, and Leslie had just brought up, for the second time, the "curious incident of the Squogre and Edward". According to Leslie, Edward had given Scott a strange look and a weird smile and it had taken him by surprise. "Show no fear to the dreaded Squogre," Leslie said. "That's it's weakness!"

"I have to say," she said, drumming her fingers on her chin, "it was a pretty weird look."

"Well, what I've got from this is: I was right about Edward," I said.

She raised her eyebrow, willing me to finish my sentence. It was a great way to tease Leslie; finish statements without answering them. "Don't do this to me, Jesse," she groaned.

I laughed. "He's obviously neurotic."

"That's not fair," she replied. "I don't think he's insane; he just doesn't want to give Scott the satisfaction of getting to him."

I know what that's like... "Maybe," I muttered. "So he didn't flinch, back away?"

She shook her head. "Jesse..." she said.

I knew this voice; she wanted something. "What do you want?" I joked.

"Can you drive me to the store, p-lease?" she asked. "I have a craving!"

"What is it this time?"

"I'm in a real chocolate mood," she mused, tilting her head to the side. She got like this, from time to time: be it chocolate or energy drinks or coke, or whatever.

"Fine," I replied, pretending to be annoyed.

"Yay!" she said, jumping up onto her feet. "PT!" she shouted, followed by a whistle that almost deafened me.

"Woof!" came a resounding reply, followed by the rustling of the dog from the forest.

"Can you warn me when you're about to do that?" I complained, but grinned at her enthusiasm.

"Sorry," she replied.

Our local shop was about ten minutes away, by car. Since we lived out away from town, all of the things we needed always meant we had to drive. Leslie often took advantage of the fact that I had a car; her parents wouldn't let her have one.

After we had left P.T in Leslie's house, and Leslie had told her parents that she was going, we left for the shop. "I can't believe I pander to you," I said, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

"Hey, I'm impulsive. Sue me!" she replied.

The shop we always visited was a run down little shack (and that was the nice way of putting it) just off the edge of the free way that ran past Lark Creek. It was a gas station that a lot of truckers stopped at before heading on their way. No one visited Lark Creek, so this was probably the most visited part of our whole town. London has Buckingham Palace, San Francisco has the Golden Gate Bridge, we have Moe's Pit Stop. And what a perfect association, as the "gargoyle" (another of Leslie's) at the counter was exactly like the Simpsons character.

"Well, here we are," Leslie said, hopping out of the car and rooting through her pocket.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'll buy."

"But..."

"No, I'm buying," I interrupted. "I know you're not a charity case."

"All right the..." she trailed off, and a strange look fell upon her face. "You'll never guess what, Jesse..."

I frowned. "What is it?" I asked. "I'm not really a fan of guessing games."

Leslie didn't reply, and pointed melodramatically to the shop. "Yeah, I've seen the gargoyle man before," I said, following her finger to the counter, through the shop window.

"The customer."

I frowned, before realisation dawned. "Oh, for God's sake," I groaned. "What the hell are the chances?"

"Well, given this is probably the most stocked shop in Lark Creek," she explained, laughing at my face. "I'd say it would be pretty likely that he would shop here, wouldn't you?"

Of all the people in the world, why on earth did it have to be Edward? "Well," I sighed. "I guess he's got the buy his groceries somewhere."

"Really?" Leslie mused. "I thought machines didn't need food."

I laughed. "I guess he's some sort of new model."

"Or maybe," she continued, looking like she was planning for a movie. "Maybe he's only pretending to eat, to catch us off guard! So he can eventually take over the world!"

"A robot from the future?" I suggested.

"Yeah!" she gasped, enthusiastically.

"I think there's already a movie for that," I grinned.

She snapped her fingers. "Darn it!"

"I'm sure you'll come up with the next big thing some day, Leslie," I told her. I believed it too, but there was no way she would go into films; books were her life! "You'll make it big then."

"Just watch it, Jesse," she said, walking forward, swaying her arms around as if caught in the current. "He might give us the look!"

"Oooooh," I grinned, following her into the shop.

"Hi, Edward!" Leslie greeted, as she got through the door.

Edward turned to us, still looking robotic, and emotionless. "Oh, Leslie Burke," he said, looking her up and down, then doing the same to me. "And Jesse Aarons. Funny seeing you here."

I think that's the longest thing I've know him say, I thought. "It is the only shop nearby," I muttered.

Edward's eyes came back to me, staring at me. I shifted around uncomfortably; there was a wolf like quality about him. Perhaps it was his skinny frame, or streamline face, or sharp, frightening eyes. Didn't matter; I didn't like it. Leslie, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. She's a much better person than I am, I'm lucky to be around her. She's definitely not judgemental, so maybe it's just me.

"That's true," he replied, after a long pause. Why did I feel like he was sizing me up?

"Anyway..." Leslie said, holding the word longer than it needed. "What are you buying?"

He turned back to a brown, paper bag on the counter (the cheapest bag around, and the usual ones of Moe's shop). "Gum, and today's paper," he told us, grabbing the bag.

"Can you three take your little talk outside," The gargoyle himself grunted from behind the counter. "I don't want to listen to your damn chit chat!"

Moe was not an good looking. His eyes was a dirty brown, surrounded by wrinkled skin that seemed slightly too large for his face. His mouth was thin and taut, with yellow, crooked and chipped teeth. He had a shaggy beard and long, curly hair. He wouldn't have been as much of an assault to the eyes if it wasn't for his personality. He was "a tight fisted hand at the grindstone"... or something like that (another of the weird things that Leslie came out with, but I think it is Dickens).

Edward turned his head, slowly, until he was facing the man. "Shut your mouth," he said. He said it in his normal voice, but there was definitely malice in it, "be polite to your guests."

Moe was a little taken aback. "It's my shop!" he said, after a second.

"What did I just say?" he said. "Speak when you're spoken to."

Wow, this was weird. Nobody spoke against Moe, they were terrified of his temper. While Moe thought of a response, Edward nodded his head at Leslie. "I'll see you two at school," he made for the door, his crutch clicking on the floor as he went. "Oh, and you," he said, pointing his crutch at Moe. "I would watch yourself, if I were you."

Edward walked out of the door, letting it shut behind him, and leaving and eerie silence.

"Well..." Leslie said, grabbing a bar from the stand next to her. "Can I buy one of these, please?"

**xLx**

"He was on our side, Jesse!" I said, whilst biting into the chocolate bar and getting into the car. Our moment with Mr. Gargoyle was one of the most awkward I've ever experienced. When we got out of the shop, Edward was nowhere to be seen. "Moe was being rude."

"Didn't you find that last comment a bit... weird?" he asked.

Jesse has cause to be wary, of course, but Edward had been beaten down by Scott and his group; he was obviously not a dangerous person. It was probably all some sort of protective façade and, with every façade, there is a motive... I wonder what his is.

"Yes, actually," I found myself musing.

The choking of the car, as it started, reminded me where I was; it's very easy to get lost in your own thoughts. "Do we have any homework?" Jessee asked, after a second of silence.

What a weird question! It was so out of character I found myself laughing. "Is that a no?" he asked.

"No, it's a yes," I replied, and laughed again when I saw Jessee's face; he looked like his brain a melted.

"Is that a yes, or a no?" he asked, less exasperated than I expected.

"It's a..." I frowned, looking out the window. "Jesse, look."

"I saw," Jesse replied.

I also saw Jessee sigh. "I know what you're going to ask..." he said.

Edward was hobbling down the roadside, obviously in pain from his leg. "He's on crutches, Jesse!" I said. "We can't leave in walking on his own; he stood up against the dreaded gargoyle."

"That's true," he sighed again. "But there's no where for him to sit!"

"There's the back seat!" I protested.

Jesse made a voice of an old man, arguing with himself. The car started to slow down. "Why do you have to be so, damn nice?" he grunted. "Fine, I'll ask him. But, if we get stabbed or something, on your head be it."

"Thanks, Jesse," I grinned.

The car stopped next to Edward, who kept walking. "Edward!" Leslie called.

"Hello again, Leslie Burke," he said, carrying on in the same direction.

Jessee drove the car so we were driving at the same speed. "Look, do you want us to drive you home?" I asked, biting my lip to hold back the grin when Jesse gasped: "_us?" _

He stopped, looked at me. Then, he shook his head. "OK then," he said. Who shakes there head and then says yes. He then looked into the car. "You don't seem very happy about this," he commented.

"No, I'm fine," Jesse said, and I could hear Jesse tightening his grip on the wheel.

"So, Leslie Burke," he said, returning his gaze to me. "You wear the trousers in this relationship, then?"

"I wouldn't say that," I smiled, trying to be as non hostile as possible; he'd stood up to Scott, and Moe, and deserved respect, if nothing else, for it.

"Oh really," he said, but it was obvious he didn't believe me.

"Directions?" Jessee asked, reverting to his school self; his withdraw personality.

Edward, after examining Jessee (and I really can't think of another way to phrase that), explained the way to his house from where we were. Well, that's not really true. He explained the way to a road that Jesse and I (and everyone else in Lark Creek) knew. Lark Creek was so small you could draw a map on a single sheet of paper.

"Is that enough?" he asked.

"We've lived in Lark Creek for quite a while," I tried to explained.

"I take it you're not a native," he interrupted.

Funny, I haven't heard anyone say that before. I smiled. "No, I'm not from around here," I told him. "My parents and I moved here when I was ten."

"You speak well," he commented, after mulling over what I said.

"Err... thank you?"

"Far better than any of the bumpkins around here," he callously commented.

Jessee wasn't at all chauvinistic, but it was probably a good idea to get away from this; Jessee didn't want to drive him! "What are you parents?" he asked. "Teachers? Or are they just literary enthusiasts. I can tell you have read a fair few books."

"They're writers," I replied, impressed he was so close.

Edward nodded. Again, he was mulling over what I said. "Well, I'll get in the back, then." Edward limped round to the back of the truck and hopped in.

"Not even a "thank you"," Jesse protested.

Jesse had grown up with Jack Aarons and, as much as I liked him, he was the proudest person I knew. He wouldn't accept help for anything. In fact, my dad had once offered to drive him to work every day when his car was down, and they wouldn't speak for two weeks. Strange... given that pride is one of the seven sins. Anyway, I'm rambling... Jess should be well aware of how proud men (and boys) can get, and should realise that it was nothing personal. I sighed, aloud. When will you ever learn, Jess Aarons?

"You all right back there, Edward?" I asked, looking through the window behind my head to see Edward, leaning casually with his arms stretched out.

He gave a thumbs up in response.

"Right, let's go!" I said, pointing my hand forward like a captain.

"Arr..." Jesse joked, sensing what I was doing.

The drive to Edward's road wasn't a long one, but it was long enough for something strange to happen. "Psst..." a hushed voice hissed at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"He's looking at you," he said, not taking his eyes of the road. "Turn your head slightly."

"Oh, come now," I said, turning my head. Whenever I looked at Edward I saw something strange. They say girls have an intuition about these things, but I think that's rubbish... but his eyes were examining now. I'd seen that look before, and he wouldn't look away... It was memory.

**xJx**

Edward slapped on the window, letting me know that we were at his house. There was only one house that stood out; one with a middle aged, tall, bearded man waiting on a chair in front of the house. "Edward," he called. Must be his dad... even though he looked nothing like his son... "Where have you been?"

"The shops," Edward replied, briskly.

"And who are these people?" he asked. "Care to introduce me?"

The man, who I can only assume was Mr. Johnson, smiled at me. He had a nice smile, and with the beard looked like a young father Christmas. He must not be a worker with his hands, as his clothes were neat and ironed. Edward got out of the car. "This is Leslie, and Jesse."

"You know them from school?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"Now now, don't be rude," Mr. Johnson said, looking over to Edward, who wouldn't return his gaze. "He's always been like that," he said to us, walking over to the car. "Even with that leg of his, he's probably faking it," he laughed.

Weird... "Anyway, thanks for driving him home," Mr Johnson nodded. "I hope he didn't put you through too much trouble."

"Yeah, they get it, Joe," Edward growled, this time staring him in the eyes.

"I think we should go, Jesse," Leslie whispered into my ear. I nodded.

"Well, I guess you don't want to see my step son acting up." Oh, stepson... explains how different the two of them were. "It's been good to meet the two of you. Oh!" he announced, slapping his head. "My name's Joe, Joe Mitten, and I know, it sure is a funny name!"

We laughed, and I extended my hand and shook it."

"Good to meet you two.," Leslie and I returned, at the same time.

He laughed. "Well, goodbye."

We drove away, leaving Edward and Joe on the porch. As I looked out of my window, I saw that Edward was not following his step dad inside, but watching us drive away. "I don't know where Edward gets it from," I commented, as we headed home.

"Huh?" Leslie replied, coming out of her world.

"Joe, he seems like a nice guy."

"Hmm..." was all Leslie would respond.

**xJx**

Weeks go by in quickly in Lark Creek, and they seem to go unusually fast for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be out of Tristitia, but I don't want my time with Leslie to be over quickly. With the week that past since our interaction with Edward Johnson and Joe, the teachers, as if to punish us, tripled the homework load with tests ever week. I was falling behind!

Leslie, who was much better than this stuff that I could ever be, helped me whenever she could. She had now started coming over, every day, from four 'til around six, revising so I could get an A. That was her goal. The conversation had gone something like this:

"_But Leslie..." I protested, as she plopped a chemistry book down on my lap. _

"_Nope, I'm not hearing it," she said, sitting beside me at the dinner table. "I'm not hearing any of it at all. You're not going to let some... some squirt like Mr. Kelly get you down!"_

"_Aren't I?" I mumbled, weakly. _

_She shook her head. "You know what we're going to do," she said, pushing her hair out of her face (it was starting to get in her way now). _

"_What?" I said, playing into her game. _

"_We're going to whip you into chemistry shape!" _

"_This is starting to sound like a movie,"I commented._

"_You bet it is!" she replied, trying to psyche me up. You know what's weird, it was working! "What's that Mulan film song?"_

"_Make a man out of you, I think," I told her._

"_Yeah, that," she clicked her fingers. "We'll work until you get an A! The look on his face will be too much!" _

_I sighed, again. _

Leslie was right; it would be phenomenal to see Mr. Kelly's face when I did well. However, he was probably right about me.

It was Tuesday night, and Leslie and I were at the table again. It was getting late (night was starting to fall), but Leslie was still here, running through questions. Both of us were improving, and I'm shocked at how great a chemistry teacher she is. I would say "not just a pretty face", but I knew that already.

"Well, just look at you two," Mum said, stirring a cup of coffee in her hand. "How is the chemistry going?" she grinned at that last comment.

"There's nothing to smile about, this sucks..." I complained.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," she replied. "How is it going, though? Are you improving?"

"Yeah, all thanks to Leslie," I said.

She smiled broadly. "That's great to hear," Mum said.

The nice scene was interrupted with three, heavy knocks on our door. It was something about our house; knocks on the door echoed and made them overly dramatic. Leslie and I looked at each other, and she shrugged. "I've got it," Dad called, just as Mum went for the door.

Leslie, curious as ever, stood up and made for the door. I followed her, like I always did. I probably shouldn't, as the last time I did we got stuck with the borderline sociopath Edward Johnson. Leslie always says I'm being unfair with my comments, but feeling no emotion is not normal.

Leslie and I peeked around the corner to see two cops, standing in the rain. "Jack," they said, one after another, nodding.

"Dave, Paul," Dad said, nodding at each in turn. I couldn't see the front of his face, but there's no doubt that he would be looked suspicious.

I nudged Leslie and put my finger to my lips. She nodded, in understanding.

"What are you doing here, then?" Dad asked.

"Can we come in?" the man on the left, Dave, asked.

Dad didn't respond for a second; he hated the police. After a second, he moved out of the way. "I'd prefer it if you kept the noise down," Dad said. "May Belle is asleep."

"That's fine," Paul replied. "We just need to speak to you boy, Jess."

"Oh really?" Dad said, sounding more annoyed. "And why would that be?"

The cops, not being stupid, realised Jack wouldn't move without them telling him. "There's been an incident, Jack," Paul explained, rubbing water and sweat out of his eyes. "A serious incident."

"And what does that have to do with my son?" Dad asked.

They looked at each other, again. "Do you know where he was, last night, at around five?" Paul asked, taking out a little notebook. Dad didn't respond, so Paul continued. "It's probably nothing, we're just following up on all of the possibilities."

"You know what it's like, ey?" Dave said.

"No, I don't," Dad growled. "Jesse was with his friend, in my house, all yesterday."

"They weren't out of your sight?" Dave asked.

Dad shook his head. "What about school? Was he late home?" Dave asked.

"He was at home about twenty minutes after school ended," Dad explained, still hostile. "He had to have come straight home to make it back in time."

"True, true..." Paul said, scribbling for a second more before putting his notepad back into his pocket. He then sighed. "There's been an attack."

"A very nasty one, too," Dave said.

Dave and Dad were friends (well, drinking partners at the local bar) a while back. "What happened?" Dad asked.

"A kid at your son's school, Scott Hoager," Dave started, but he was nudged by his partner. "Sorry, can you forget I said the kids name?"

"I won't tell a soul if you get on with it," Dad growled.

"Well, this wasn't a normal attacked," Dave continued. "The kid was tazed, dragged off the road, tied to a tree and beaten," Dave rubbed his face. "Broken leg and collar bone... nasty stuff. Seriously concussed. The perp then put a bag over his head, left him for dead. He crawled to the road, with his arms tied behind his back, where he was found. He's in intensive care at the moment."

Dad mulled over this for a second. "You know my kid," he growled, more enraged. "You think my kid, Jess Aarons, is capable of something like that?"

"Who is it, dear?" Mum called from the kitchen.

"I'll tell you after, Mary," he replied. "So," he turned back to the cops. "Do you?"

"Of course not," Dave said, quickly. "The school told us there was some rivalry between the two of them. We just had to check this wasn't some sort of vendetta, you know?"

Dad rubbed his face. "I guess that makes sense," he said, not sounding much like my dad at all. "Well, is that it, then?"

"Yeah," Dave and Paul said, together. "Sorry about this, Jack, we just had to check."

"Don't worry about it," Dad grunted. "Evening."

"Evening," they replied, nodding at him, before leaving.

The police weren't very good around her. Then again, they were friends with dad and they knew me, so they should take his word for it. More importantly, Scott had been attacked. Not just attacked, savaged... I'm not sure if he deserved it. Did that make me a bad person? I don't know, but it looks like Scott finally upset the wrong person.

End of Chapter.

**Don't forget to review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Group

**A/n: **This chapter is completely different from the others ones, and I hope you enjoy it. In today's chapter, we will be exploring the three part psyche of Edward Johnson.

**Chapter 6: Group **

**xNx**

Edward Johnson was as strange as Jesse had pinned him, perhaps more so. He was lying on his bed, head propped up on his hands, as he struggled with his first time at school. His head was filled with with thoughts of his first day at school. His eyes were shut, and he was having a conversation with... himself. At least, that was one way of looking at it. Psychoanalysts could probably give a better answer than that.

"You're just imagining things," the first Edward said. This Edward seemed to be more angry than the other two. He was resentful, and it would make sense to call his Rage.

"No you're not," the second replied.

"You would think that, wouldn't you," Rage laughed, pointing at him. "You just want him to be right!"

Edward's psyche was incredibly intricate, and bordered on quite serious psychosis. It could be divided into three sections, each of which represented a particularly strong section of himself:

There was R_age,_ the violent, eccentric and narcissistic section. _Rage_ acted out in the conversations. He was rash, vicious and was uninterested in the rest of the world. This voice also acted within Edward, wherever he was. Nothing was important, other than vengeance. Against who? Against everything. He appeared, in Edward's mind, as a young boy, around eight years old, with wild hair and ripped clothes and a bruised face.

There was _Regret_. Regret was much deeper within Edward. All of things he had done wrong in his life were combined into him. He was quite, and took regular abuse from _Rage_, keeping him quiet through regular reminding of Edward's past. _Regret _was benign, kind and, importantly, nostalgic. He also embodied Edward's more human emotions: fear, sadness and loneliness. He appeared slightly older, he was ten, and had combed hair and a clean face. His eyes, however, were red, and constantly full of tears. He was constantly quiet, suppressed by _Rage_.

Then there was _Rational. _Put simply, he was Edward's outside personality. Emotionless, guiltless and concerned only with feeling numb. He took the role of the leader in the meetings. You could look at it as the angel and devil on his shoulders, but it was a lot more deep rooted and meaningful.

The three of them, _Rational, Rage and Regret, _were in a triangle, with _Rational_ sitting on the floor of Edward's own little world: an empty, dark plane which spanned infinitely in all directions. The floor was sandy, but with what looked like metal dust on the ground.

"You're going soft on us, boy!" _Rage _growled, spitting in Edward's direction.

"We're not stupid, _Rage,_" _Regret _interjected, quietly. "We all know that Edward has no need for you when he's happy."

Rage raised his fist, but lowered it almost immediately. "Happy?" he grunted, spitting again. "Are you joking." This time, he did slap _Regret _with the back of his hand, knocking him onto the floor. As _Regret _clambered away, _Rage _walked over and kicked him in the face. "What do you know about happiness?" he asked, kicking him again.

"You know exactly what people do!" _Rage _growled, squatting in front of _Regret_. "They're creature, crawling across the world. All they do is kill, torture and dominate. They love it!"

"Not everyone does," _Regret _whispered.

_Rage _moved his face right in front of _Regret's_. "You have something to say?" he asked, menacingly, bringing his face forward until their faces were touching.

_Regret _made a grunting, pathetic noise in response. It was as if he was about to speak, but the words would not come out. "You're pathetic," _Rage _laughed, kicking _Regret _again, causing him to roll away. "You're talking about _It_, aren't you? That thing that ruined us. It's that maggot that made us worse!"

"Don't say that," came the monotone voice of _Rational._

"Oh, finally growing a back bone, too?" _Rage _laughed, pointing a rational. "You got brains, freak, but no balls. You can't even compare to me!"

"I am uninterested in such things," _Rational _replied, scribbling in the metal dust of the floor. "Don't call her "it", all right?"

_Rage _laughed. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, giving one last kick in the teeth to _Regret_, and heading over to him.

"You know full well you do not intimidate me, _Rage,_" _Rational _replied, not even looking up.

_Rage_ chewed on his tongue in annoyance, drawing blood. "You're the freak, not me," he laughed, kicking sand in _Regret's _eyes, causing him to cry out in pain.

"You were born out of cowardice and failure, _Rage,_" _Rational _replied, looking up at _Rage. _Looking at his child like, beaten and furious face. "You were not born out of power, and cannot dominate me. And displaying domination to _Regret_ will not phase me."

"Who cares?" _Rage _laughed. "You're smart, so how the fuck could you believe something so childish?"

"Hope keeps us going," _Regret _whimpered.

_Rage _raised his hand, instantly causing _Regret _to scurry away. "_Regret _knows it, you know it, I know it," _Rage _said. "It's not my fault for what happened. Oh, evil little _Rage, _the wild child. Well, I didn't let it happen, did I? I wasn't there!"

"No, you weren't," _Rational _admitted, continuing his doodle in the metal.

"It wouldn't have happened if I was in charge," he said, raising his arms to his side. "I'm the power, not you! My mind would have triumphed, and we wouldn't have been crushed!"

"If you were in charge, murder would shortly follow," _Rational _followed. "You're the terrible bi-product of a terrible deed. No, my mind will always reign superior, _Rage_."

"Now, that's not true, is it?" _Rage _mocked.

It was _Rational's _turn to question, now. "What do you mean?" he asked.

_Rage _spat into _Rational's _face, in response and he started to dance around. No sooner had the spit touched _Rational's _face, than four, long tentacles burst forth from the ground, grabbing each of _Rage's _limbs and holding him in the air. The desired affect had not occurred, however. _Rage _didn't struggle, he just continued laughing. "You lost control," he sang. "You lost control."

"Are you referring to the Scott Hoger incident?" _Rational _asked.

"What else?" _Rage _giggled.

_Rational _stood, and paced in front of _Rage. _"I still am unaware of how you did that," he mused. "Care to inform me?"

_Rage _practically wet himself at that question. "What?" he laughed, tear streaming out of his eyes. The tendrils were squeezing his wrists and ankles so tightly they were drawing blood, but he didn't care; pain was a usual occurrence to _Rage_. "The great _Rational? _The soul who can understand everything, he can't even understand the motives of eight year old _Rage?"_

"Your birth was a stain on this world," _Rational _commented, stopping in front of _Rage. _

"Now, now," _Rage _tutted. He looked at the blood that was dripping to the floor. "Look at that," he laughed. "Drip, drip, drip, drip... Does it make you feel something, you thrill seeking waste of life? You're more like me than you know."

"You're dodging my question," _Rational _replied, disinterested in _Rage's _comments. "Now, why would that be?"

"I'm not ashamed, nor afraid," _Rage_ growled, falling right into _Rational's _trap. "I'll tell you exactly what happened, and you can judge for yourself."

"Go on," _Rational _said, after quite a long pause.

"_Regret _and yourself were feeling emotion," he giggled. "That Leslie girl, for some reason you feel protective. Oh... wait a second, I'm not stupid," he said, staring right into _Rational's _eyes. "I know exactly why you were feeling protective!"

"Get on with it," _Rational _commanded.

"Ok, ok," he said, growing serious again. "I have no emotions for her, accept the want of seeing her suffer for what she's doing." This was obvious bating, and _Rational _wasn't about to fall for it. "Anyway, you two were feeling particularly strongly about Hoger. You began experiencing emotions that I feel. You opened up to me, begged me to punish Scott."

"I did nothing of the sort," _Rational _retorted.

"Not consciously," _Rage _replied. "You were feeling anger and wanted to dominate. That's where I come in," he boasted. "With those emotions, which you're not supposed to have," he added. "I tapped into your minds, feeding off you, and controlling both of you." He laughed again. "And it was so, damn easy!"

_Rational _thought about this comment. It was true, Leslie had sparked something inside him that he had not felt in a few years. It had established a connection between _Regret _and himself. He had hoped _Rage _hadn't discovered this fact. However, through connecting with _Rational_, _Rage _had also tapped into his intelligence. This was incredibly dangerous, especially for a sadistic mind like _Rage. _

"It was so fun, as well!" _Rage _shouted, as if he could not contain himself. . "I simple cannot wait until it happens again."

"You'll have a long wait."

_Rage _immediately stopped laughing, and changed to his menacing face. "Oh," he said, slowly. "And, pray tell, what makes you think that?"

"Put simply," _Rational _replied. "I shan't allow it."

"You?" he screamed, pointing his head up to the black sky. "You think you could stop me?"

"Yes."

"Like you did last time?" _Rage _asked. "As long as you two continue to feel emotions..."

"I know what you're trying to do," _Rational _replied. _Rage _raised and eyebrow, but he looked worried. "You want me to stop seeing Leslie, so _Regret _will become more emotional, allowing you to control him even further."

"You litte..." _Rage _growled. "Let me go, I'll rip your throat out with my teeth!" There was a deafening rumble, followed by four walls rising out of the ground around Rage. "I'll get you for this!" he screamed. _Rational _could hear him struggling. "You just wait, I'll be back."

"It seems we can't coexist," _Rational _as the walls blocked _Rage _from view, and a roof started to form above him. "Henceforth," he delivered, as if dictating for note. "You will be suppressed, you are far, far to dangerous to be allowed near _Regret._"

The walls, now sealed around _Rage, _ started to descend into the ground. As they fell, _Rational _sat back down. He had to be much smarter now, to compete with the danger of his own emotion. There was a reason Edward was so suppressed. He was at a crossroads, and both led to failure. _Rage _must have known this, and revealed it to make _Rational _open to attack.

If Edward stopped seeing Leslie, then _Regret _would fall back into the depression that often consumed him. This would leave him open to attack from _Rage. _Therefore, Edward would have to continue seeing Leslie, for his own good. It was a shame Leslie was so... like she was. _However, if Edward saw Leslie, it would cause huge amounts of nostalgia and memory, that they would prefer to suppress, with Regret _and _Rational_.

The eight year old monster would surface regardless, the way things were going. Not knowing what to do, _Rational _looked at the drawing, and saw a girl's face... just who he didn't want to see.

**End of Chapter**

I know that was a quick chapter, but it needed to be done. Can you give me some feedback about the psyche of Edward, I can assure you that it is incredibly important.


	7. Chapter 7: Elated

**A/N: **To anyone who is reading this, but hasn't read Frequency, you need to go back. It's important for this story and the final story.

**Chapter 7: Elated**

**xJx**

The moments that followed the police's exit were far longer than they should have been. To be honest, I was far less bothered by the news than I probably should be. Scott hadn't given me an easy time of it, so hearing he had been put in his place was a good thing. However, this was something else entirely. I suppose you could say this was attempted murder, though I can't see why, if that was the guy's plan, he didn't see it through.

Leslie, who was a pacifist, didn't look happy at all. The thought of this kind of violence so close to her home must have freaked her out. I looked over to her, and saw a worry in her eyes. Not knowing what to do, I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled, slightly. "Thanks, Jesse," she said, after a second.

"All right, Jesse," Dad called. "I know you are listening. Get out here."

I nodded, even though Dad couldn't see me. "I'll tell you later," I whispered to Leslie. She nodded in response. "I don't think he would be happy if he caught you eavesdropping."

Leslie nodded again. "You'll tell Leslie anyway," Dad said, "she can come out to."

"That sorts that out," Leslie commented, dryly, and led me to the front door of my house.

Dad didn't look pleased. Having the police at his house accusing his son, and thereby accusing him, was a real swing to his pride. "You heard what they said," Dad said. Leslie and I nodded together. At any other time, the two of us behaving like little kids would have made us laugh. "You..." he stalled, rubbing his face. "You didn't have anything to do with it, did you?"

"No, I didn't!" I gasped, shocked Dad would even consider that I would do something like this.

"No, no, you're right," Dad said, looking worse than before. "How could I blame you for this, it's not in you."

He was right about that. But, for some reason, it felt like he was insulting my manhood, and I didn't like it. "That makes things worse, somehow," Dad commented.

"How is that, Mr. Aarons?" Leslie asked, politely.

"We have a maniac on the lose," Dad said. "Watch yourself, you two. I don't know if this was random, or planned, but don't put yourself in a position where you can get yourself in trouble, you hear?"

"I'm sixteen Dad," I complained, more of being humbled in front of a certain someone.

"So was he," Dad replied.

"We won't," Leslie said. "I'll keep and eye on him," she joked. This seemed to go down well with Dad.

"You listen to her, Jesse," Dad grunted. "She's got a head on her shoulders. Lord knows you could use one sometimes."

"Thanks," I muttered, nudging Leslie when she started giggling at me.

"Anyway," Dad said, looking at his watch and then out of the window. "It's getting late, why don't you take Leslie home?"

Leslie and I looked at eachother, the nodded.

**xJx**

Obviously, the tale of Scott Hoger had spread rapidly through the school. Through parents in the police force, hospital and paramedics, the actual story had become public knowledge. Leslie was sceptical, hoping that the police wouldn't disclose information about the public, but I reminded her that the police had told us. Unhappy, she conceded.

As the week wore on, the story became complete, along with some nasty photographs that were spread around. I don't know how everyone had them, but they showed Scott lying in a bed, covered in bandages, head shaved and chipped teeth. The weirdest thing was that he was in a position where he could get attacked. Scott was usually in a big group, or his car. This idea was quickly answered; Leslie sat in front of the gossips in one of her lessons, and had heard everything.

Apparently, Scott had a detention, so was late coming out of school. When he got back to his car, the tyres were completely destroyed, with knife marks obvious on each wheel. His parents were in Texas on some sort of business trip, so he phoned a pick up and had to walk. On the way back, he was attacked. It was down a back road. The story goes: he was walking alone, when he was tazed. Whilst he was writhing around, he was smacked in the head. It was a blur after that, all the stories were different, so I'm guessing he was concussed and didn't know. Anyway, when Scott came to, his arms were tied behind his back, and he had a bag over his head with eye holes. The rest we were told by the police.

"When do you think he will be back in school?" Leslie had asked.

Secretly, I hoped he would never come back; that the injuries were too bad. I wouldn't tell Leslie, though, as she'd be furious with me for condoning such "barbarity". "Not for a while," I had replied.

The assault wasn't being taken lightly by the school; the parents of students were outraged. For some reason, everyone was blaming Tristitia for putting Scott in that position. The school had, obviously, responded by saying it was off school grounds. This only made things worse, parents claimed the school didn't care about the students. We heard the response two days after the attack in home room.

"Calm down, class," Mrs. Roberts said, as she walked in. "There is some important news that needs to be addressed.

Unfortunately, Leslie was not in my home room, so I had to suffer through it on my own. The class fell silent much quicker than usual. "That's better," Mrs. Roberts commented. "I'm sure many of you are aware of what happened to one of our students earlier this week." Mrs. Roberts paused, letting the whispers finish before she continued.

"Well, we need to take action," she said, callously. "The police have told us to inform every one of you that there is a dangerous predator in Lark Creek. Not an animal, not in form, anyway." You could tell, just by how she spoke, that Mrs. Roberts was an English teacher. Leslie was her favourite student.

"Many of you will think you are safe," she said. "But, don't be caught on your own. Don't walk out of the back roads of Lark Creek. The student," Mrs. Roberts would keep professional until the end. "who was attacked is lucky to be alive, he could easily have lost his life to whoever did this."

"Also," she said, keeping our attention. "If you know anything at all about what happened, go straight to a member of faculty or the police."

Stupid thing to say... if anyone knew, they would have to be involved in the crime, somehow. They would be admitting guilt. The person who did this would not be a student, or, at least, would be one who was smart enough not to brag about it. Then again, I was failing Psychology, so I couldn't call myself Freud. Leslie, on the other hand, was good at that stuff. I wonder if Leslie's getting the same speech. Her form teacher was a maths teacher, not even close to the same level of speech. I bet Mrs. Roberts would love to swap me for Leslie.

**xLx**

Physics now... yaaawn. We were getting the tests back and, quite frankly, I'd be happy with even passing. Numbers, equations... they just don't do anything for me. The only thing interesting about Physics is Edward.

Edward... Jesse keeps getting weird every time I mention him, no matter how meaningless. Maybe he was jealous. No, wishful thinking. If he was jealous it would mean he felt something. Damn it. "Hello, Edward," I said, walking into Physics, finding him already in his seat.

"Hello, Leslie Burke," he said.

"You don't have to always say both my names," I told him, falling into the seat next to him. He just hummed in response. "So..." I said, breaking the silence. "Did you hear about what happened Scott."

"That he got beaten up?" he replied, closing the book he was doodling in. "Yeah, I heard."

"That's a bit of an understatement," I frowned. "He nearly got killed."

"So the story goes," Edward replied, analysing me again.

"What?" I replied, confused. "You don't believe it?"

"It's not that," he said. "It's that you can't trust what gossips say, they're just wanting to be listened to."

I nodded. There was something different today; Edward was far more talkative than usual. He seemed more open to talk, instead of looking emotionless. "So, your step dad seemed nice," I said. I was being a little sneaky here. Joe seemed nice on the surface, but Edward had seemed entirely hostile with him. Given that Edward didn't display any outward signs of feeling... well, anything, it didn't make any sense unless there was something more serious. I wanted to know what he thought without insulting him.

Edward frowned. "Yeah," he said, after a second. "Yeah, he's OK."

That seemed legitimate, but it still didn't feel right. "Have you ever played poker?" I asked, trying to loosen the tension that I had created.

He didn't make a visual response, but I got the feeling I amused him. "No, I haven't," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"I have a feeling you'd be pretty good at it," I joked.

He nodded, and was about to respond when the aptly named Mrs. Stone walked in. "Good afternoon, everyone," she said, in her usual powerful voice. "I said, good afternoon everyone!"

"Good afternoon," the class chorused. It was a little unorthodox for high school, and she didn't always do it.

"You will be getting your results for the test you took last lesson." Another chorus flooded the room, only this time they were moans. Even though I didn't really care, there was a bit of anxiety as she got the tests out of her bag. "On the whole, they were pretty good. We still have some work to do..." and she went through the parts that we had messed up on. I always love it when teachers did this, just like I love getting paper cuts...

"Right," she said, after forever. "I'll hand these out, then."

"Do you live with your mum, Edward?" I asked.

He looked at me. "Why do you ask?" he asked me.

"I saw Joe, but I never saw anyone else," I told him.

"My mum doesn't come out very often," he said, looking back at the piece of the paper he was scribbling. "You probably won't ever see her."

Before I had time to reply, a foreboding Stone stood above us. "Good work, Leslie," she said, handing me the paper.

"Oh," I said, surprised, as I looked at the large, red "B" on the paper. "Thank you, Mrs. Stone."

She nodded in response. "And, for you," she said. She didn't look happy at all, as she handed the test to Edward. "You did well," was all she said. Edward, without looking at the paper, or acknowledging Mrs. Stone was there at all, put the sheets into his bag.

"Aren't you going to look at your grade?" Mrs. Stone asked, irritated by his disinterest.

"Not interested," was all he replied, not looking up from his doodle.

I could hear Mrs. Stone's teeth grind. I didn't need to, I had saw what he got. Full marks, if my eyes were correct. I think he knew as well, but he knew before he even sat the test that he would do well. Well, well, well, well, well... there was something to tell Jesse. Edward Johnson was smart.

**xJx**

The November months crept up on us and passed quite quickly. The weather was getting colder and colder, and it was turning into scarf and snotty nose weather. I don't like the winter, it's too cold and it gets dark quickly. It steals my day away from me. What I do like, however, is the snow. There's something about it that makes me feel closer with Leslie than usually. Was I saying that it was romantic?

It was mid November, I was sitting in my room, on my, with my legs crossed. My notebook was on my lap and I was busy drawing. It was pretty cold, and in the winter, when Dad's shop got less business, we were much poorer. We couldn't have the heating on all the time, it cost too much, so I had my scarf on whilst I drew. I was drawing the same person I always drew, my best friend.

I was too embarrassed, and useless, to draw her in front of her, and everything I did draw ended up rubbished. But here, on my own, I drew her from memory. Every detail accounted for. I had a chest, under my bed, with all the drawings I had done of her. This went from little drawings when I was 10 (when I thought she was going to die), to now. However, I could never capture her essence. If it was a drawing of anything else, I would have ripped it up into little pieces and thrown it in the trash, but I couldn't seem to throw anything away that had Leslie's face on, no matter how crap the drawing was.

Leslie and I had been friends constantly. A lot of friendships split up, to become friends again a while later (or never), but we weren't like that. Sure, we've had fall outs. Especially when we were twelve and onwards. I didn't know why until my mum sat me down and spoke about... the awkward conversation that all parents (or, at least, should) have with their child.

One thing Leslie and I hadn't had was relationships with others. Neither of us had a girlfriend/boyfriend. I couldn't get one, obviously, but Leslie was attractive... very attractive, and she could get any boy to like her, unless they were blind. Scratch that, even if they were blind.

I stared at my drawing, looking at the place where Leslie's eyes should go. They were the hardest to do. I had a feeling that the strangest, rarest people had weird eyes. Leslie's eyes were impossible to draw, and Edwards made you uncomfortable in a way that was difficult to describe. He was psychotic, obviously. I don't get why Leslie can't see it.

Speaking of which, he's smart too! Leslie ran me through an incident that had occurred in their physics class, and I had to swallow bile at the thought of him and her talking together.

"_Seriously, Jesse," she said. "He got one hundred percent and didn't care."_

"_Did you point it out, maybe he didn't see it," I suggested._

"_Yeah, I did," she explained, rubbing her fingers on her chin. "It's an enigma. He told me: "I'm not interested in it, it's meaningless." I then asked him what his mum and Joe would think," she frowned. "I can really tell you the sound he made. It was sort of a grunt, or maybe a snort. Anyway," she said, holding her hand up, stopping herself from rambling for she started. _

"_What do you think that means?" I asked. _

"_Hmm..." Leslie said, clicking her tongue. "Jesse, what was your first impression of Joe?"_

_I thought about this question for a while, knowing Leslie would want a detailed answer. I don't like being scolded. Well, no much, anyway. "I didn't see anything up with him," I explained, thinking back about his kind eyes. "Seemed like a decent fellow."_

"_Exactly," Leslie said, as if I had latched onto some brilliant idea. "Not a damn thing was wrong with him," putting on a heavy, texan accent. "And yet," she raised her hand above her face. (I love the way she becomes when she's making a point). "And yet, did you see Edward's face?"_

"_Not really," I replied. To be honest, I got annoyed every time I saw Leslie anywhere near Edward, and had not to look at him to avoid bile coming up. _

_Leslie shook her head. "He didn't look happy," she told me. "Think about what he's usually like; not even Sigmund himself could read him. It only took one glance for me to notice something was wrong."_

_I thought about that for a while. "What do you think it means?" I asked, for the second time. "Think the robot does have feelings? Like in I 'Robot'?"_

_Leslie leaned back on the car seat. "I don't know what I'm thinking," she said. _

_We had parked the car a while back, out by pond north of Lark Creek. It was nice view in autumn. We were just watching the water move. "Let me know when you've figured it out," I said. _

_I leaned back on the chair, relaxing for the first time in a while. What with school, chores and Edward, things seemed to be ganging up on me. It was nice to just be... being. _

"_I don't want to think about it any more," Leslie said._

_I looked over, and saw that she looked sad. "What's wrong?"_

"_I feel like I should do something," she said, obviously exasperated. "But I can't put my finger on what was really going on. I mean, kids always have rows with their parents and step parents."_

"_You do remember that he called you weird, right?" I reminded her._

"_Maybe I am."_

"_You definitely are," I joked. She looked over to me, and raised her eyebrow. "And I mean that with all the love in the world."_

_Oh crap, what a stupid thing to say, damn it Jesse! Damn it! "Thanks," she smiled. "I'd prefer being me than any of the 'normal' people at school."_

_Oh, maybe I didn't put my foot in my mouth. Great! "You know what your problem is?" I said, playing on the success of my previous remark._

"_Go on."_

"_You're too nice," I said. _

"_How can one be too nice?" she laughed._

"_You've tried to understand Edward, and help him, even though you haven't been asked to," I explained. "You just can't help but help..."_

_She frowned. "Maybe you're the real Freud," she said, looking back out onto the pond. _

"_No way, I suck at things like that," I defied her. _

"_I don't think so," she said. _

_I looked at her. "It's a nice view," I commented, despite knowing I sounded like an idiot._

"_Yeah, it is," she said, looking out, totally engrossed in the scenery. "You should draw it."_

"_Maybe," I said, feeling my eyes get heavy. _

_As I shut my eyes, I felt fingers wrap around my hand. I looked over to see Leslie holding it, but still looking out at the sun on the water. It reflected, and it made her eyes look incredible. He face was lit up by the sun._

_Instead of asking her what she was doing, I lay back and shut my eyes, falling into the serenity that was engulfing me. _

Out of all the important conversation about the residence sociopath, the only reason that memory stuck in my mind was her hand in mine. It had happened before; she used to drag me around by my hand when I was little. However, there was something different about it, this time. I didn't feel embarrassed (maybe a little), I felt calm. Damn, I'm sure Leslie could put this into words so much better than me.

It was the connection. That's what made it so special. I sighed. "Am I being stupid and melodramatic about holding hands," I whispered to myself, as I tried to draw her eyes again.

My feelings for Leslie were weird. The only way I could explain it would be saying: I know what I felt, and I didn't at the same time. A bit like a child discovering the world. I also know, despite what movies and books tell you, what happens to relationships that are born of friendship. If this was a movie, maybe we would get together and live happily ever after, but in real life things seldom work like that. I'd been lucky once, saving Leslie from death, but I doubt God would grant me any more gifts, I'd had my fair share.

One thing that bothered Jesse was the fact that he was suddenly analysing everything; wasn't that what girls are supposed to do? Shouldn't he just go with the flow? "Argh," I grunted, throwing my notebook down onto my lap.

Great...

**End of Chapter**


	8. Chapter 8: Dependence

**A/N: Make sure you review after this with a bit of information on how the story is going, I'd love to know how you all feel the story has gone so far. **

**Chapter 8: Dependence**

**xLx**

Dear Diary... that's what I'm supposed to write, apparently, even though my diary isn't a person. Maybe it's so someone can think I'm talking to them, when they read it in the future? Speaking of which, if you're reading this, I'll kill you!

Well, after rambling, let's get on with this. It's November, and it has been November for fourteen days, now. Just thought I keep up to date with what's been going on. It's half way through November, and what does that mean? Well, I'll tell you. It means that Christmas and snow are on their way! Yipee! I can't wait!

What else has been going on? There's only one thing on my mind at the moment; this weird incident Jess and I had in Jesse's car. It was wonderful. We just lay there, as the sun went down, hand in hand. To be honest, I would always love him.. he would always be the most precious thing in my life. He saved me from drowning, he saved me from loneliness and I could never repay him for either of those things. Then again, I think I saved him as well...

Even as I sit here, I'm looking out of the window over to his house. It's ten, and his bedroom light was on. I wonder what you're thinking about, Jess Aarons? Are you drawing? You don't know how great you are. Ah! I have a goal for tomorrow; tell Jesse that he's awesome. I don't think he hears it enough.

It's Saturday night, we had a day of more studying, and playing around in the forests. It's funny that we can find such fun in forests. I think everyone else is losing out, with their games. The world hasn't got smaller, people are just going blind to everything around them. For goodness sake, Leslie, can't you go five minutes without sounding pretentious?

With Sunday on its way, church was soon to come. I had been with Jess and his family, to church, most Sundays since he had dove in after me. I liked it, it felt calm. I think there is a God, but I agree with what I said all those year ago: God doesn't go about damning people, he's too busy running the world. Poetry brings out my faith, especially work by Herbert. Love it!

Oh, that reminds me, the Squogre returned from it hiatus. He struggled into school, looking incredible embarrassed, with crutches in both arms. His parents had kept him off a while, and he looked much better than he had in the hospital (where both eyes had swollen shut). However, he did have two nasty scars down one side of his face and his hair was shaved, and jaw looked slightly bent. For the first time in his life, Scott was the one who was experiencing being victimised.

Jesse and I were leaning on the lockers, before home room, when he stumbled in. His face was red, and people were sniggering at him, or gasping. He didn't deserve it, but I couldn't feel sorry for him, not after how he had treated Jesse.

**xLx**

The psalm completed and Jesse went up to receive communion. I felt like a member here, and was treated like one, but since I hadn't gone through all of the procedures, I couldn't receive communion. It annoyed me a bit, but I think Jesus meant to think of Him when you eat and drink; I don't think He was being specific!

Jess marched up to the front with the others and I waited. Jess wore a nice little waistcoat and tie, that I bought him years ago. He sure did look spiffy when he went to church. I always wore a dress, to be polite, but I wouldn't part with my shoes. They were pretty big, but I loved them. I'm sure God will forgive me this one.

Mr. Aarons was waiting down the side. I'd come to find out that he was actually a nice guy. At first, he had made Jess so miserable. But we were young, and everything is black and white. Now, I realised that money was a problem, and Mr. Aarons was weighed down with the stress of raising a family on a tiny amount of money. They weren't doing a bad, now, but winters were always bad; I could see rings around his eyes. Jess had told me his dad had sold a radio to a "weird old man" for a huge price that I can't remember right now. This had given his Dad the money to kick start his hardware business.

Jess came back, after drinking his wine (he had been promoted to the real stuff when he was fifteen) and crackers (not bread). Unfortunately, he had crumbs all over his mouth. "Come here," I laughed, rubbing the crumbs away with thumb (which I had licked to get to him).

"Gross," he joked, leaning back in his chair, next to me.

I raised my eyebrow. "You drunk?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "It's that tiny glass of wine, it's gone right to my head!"

"Hush, you two," Mr. Aarons whispered. "Don't forget where we are."

We shut up immediately, but had stupid looks stuck on our face. Whilst we were listening to the priest speak about Jesus' crucifixion, I started thinking about Edward again. "I wonder what religion Edward is?" I mused. It came out of my mouth, but it wasn't supposed to.

"Not him, again," Jess moaned. Why was Jesse so annoyed whenever I brought up Edward? "I'm guessing nothing," he said, after a second.

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"I'm not sure why I think it," he whispered, leaning sideways so Mr. Aarons wouldn't hear us. "But he doesn't... look like a religious person, or act like one."

"Jesse," I winked. "Are you being judgemental?"

"A little."

"Well, I think a certain someone," I nodded the front of the church, "would say that you're not supposed to."

"True," he replied. "But I still think I'm right." He looked over. "Why do you keep bringing Edward up?"

"Why do you have a problem with it?" I quipped.

"You're getting obsessed," Jesse replied.

"I'm not," I argued. Oh no, I just had an idea. Jesse won't like it, but it will help me discover what's been bugging me. "Err... Jess."

"Hmm?" he said, flicking through his bible as we stood up for the next psalm.

"Err... can we go over to Edward's after church?" I asked, sheepishly.

He sighed. "Why?"

"Come on, Jess," I said, exasperated. "There's something I just want to check. Oh and," I added. "Can he go for a drive with us, if he wants to?"

"Are you playing Sherlock?" he asked, grinning.

"Maybe," I replied.

He sighed. "Yeah, sure, why not?" he grunted, looking forward.

"Thank you Jesse!" I smiled.

"Now, we've got to sing along," he said, tilting his head to the side. "Or my dad will skin us. Wait, scratch that," he added. "He'll skin me, you'll probably be fine."

**xJx**

I probably looked fine on the outside, but as we drove over to Edward's, my mind was grumbling away at itself. What is was saying was a bit to course for me to repeat. Leslie occasionally had little pet projects, be it books, building things, or, in this case, people. I hope I wrong, but it looks like Leslie is taking a bit too much of an interest into Edward's life.

I knew exactly why I had a problem with Edward and Leslie. I wasn't twelve any more, when I couldn't control my feelings when Leslie became friends with a boy called Jacob. I thought he was taking her away from me, and that Leslie would choose him. It was rubbish, though. Leslie scolded me for being so stupid.

I've seen the T.V, though, girls go for the sleek, moody guys. At least, I think that's what happened. I think they like the challenge of changing someone. "Grrr," I grumbled, quietly. After I realised out loud, I prayed Leslie hadn't heard me.

"Is that...?" Leslie said, pointing ahead as we drove down Edward's street.

There was a kid, lying down on his back, in Edward's front garden. As we got closer, we saw it was Edward. He had his arms behind his back. "Edward!" Leslie called out of the car, as we slowed down and stopped. "Are you sleeping?"

Edward turned his head, looking right at us. The grass outside his house was cut really well, with a few flowers dotted around. His clothes, however, looked really out of place. "What happened to your shirt?" Leslie asked. It was ripped, in many places, and you could see his skin underneath it.

Edward looked at his shirt, and back to Leslie. "It was my dog," he grunted, lying back onto the ground. "So, why have you come over?"

I looked over to Leslie. "Do you want to go on a drive? You don't look like you have much else to do," she said. She had a look on her face that screamed confusion, though I couldn't tell what had set it up.

"Wait a second," I said, perhaps latching onto what had bothered Leslie. "Why didn't you change shirt?"

Edward looked at me this time. "To you, who rudely interrupted my conversation with Leslie," I heard Leslie stifle a laugh at this one, but I didn't like being treated like a child. "Everything is in the wash, I only have this shirt." He stopped looking at me, losing interest, and changing his view to Leslie. "And to you, yes, I would like to. I take it the driver," he nodded in at me, "had little say in this."

"It's Jesse's truck," she replied.

Edward nodded. "That's not strictly true," he said, pushing himself up using his crutch that was beside him. "A hand me down, perhaps your father's old car?"

Leslie didn't reply. Then it hit me, she was being polite. "Yeah," I said, reluctantly.

Edward, instead of mocking (which Jesse had expected), said. "At least you have one," and limped over to the back. Once he had hopped up, and got into a position where he was comfortable, he tapped on the window. "So, Holmes," I said, "What did you uncover? Other than the fact that he is a jerk."

Leslie giggled. "You really did get put in your place," she told me. "And, Watson," continuing the game, "I got quite a lot, but I'll tell you later." Leslie then knocked on the window. "Come on, let's go and get some food. Some _fast _food."

**xLx**

Edward must have already eaten, as he refused, point blank, at any food. It's a good thing that no one cares in Lark Creek, nor Tristitia, that Edward was actually breaking the law by sitting the back. I kept looking back, and saw that he was looking to the side, with his lips slightly curved up at the side. I'm not sure if he was smiling, but there was definitely a reaction to the car.

We dropped Edward off after quite a long drive, and he thanked me for inviting him. Jesse looked more annoyed when Edward left, as Edward would only refer to him as "The Driver".

"I swear, I'll smack him someday," Jesse growled.

"I doubt it," I laughed.

"I still can't see why you're interested," Jesse said, starting the truck.

I sighed, Jesse sure was clueless. "It's a defence mechanism, Jesse."

"A what?" Jesse asked.

"People are often nasty for a reason," I explained. He got this, so I don't know why he's being stupid. "Remember Janice, she was a bully. Look how that turned out." I let those words sink in.

"Well, maybe he's an exception," Jesse replied, keeping his eyes on the road, obviously annoyed.

"Come on, you big baby," I joked, grabbing his cheek. "Has Edward hurt your feelings?"

"No!" he replied.

I grinned, then realised something. "Did you see anything wrong with Edward's front garden? Like dirt piles, or something like that?" I asked.

"No," Jesse replied. "It was really, well, looked after." He frowned. "Why do you asked?"

"Remember what P.T does to our garden?" I asked, thinking about the state it gets in when we take P.T on a walk.

"Yeah, he rips it up," Jesse replied. I raised my eyebrows, willing Jesse to get it sooner. "Are you saying Edward doesn't have a dog."

"No," I replied. "I'm just saying it's weird."

"Lots of things are weird," Jesse retorted. "Edward in particular."

"Hmm..."

**xJx**

I didn't see Edward again until the next Thursday. That wasn't good: Edward Johnson looking like he was waiting for me outside of class, and, since it was near the end of November, it was getting very cold. I walked out of psychology (which I sucked at), and saw him leaning on the lockers, opposite the door. He was tapping his crutch on the floor.

"Hello, driver," Edward said.

"Hello," I said, whilst thinking: _For God's sake! _"What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for something," he returned, looking down the hall.

"What?" I asked, my concern getting to me; was he waiting for Leslie? Was Leslie meeting him.

His gaze returned to me. "Calm down, it's not your friend," he said.

I sighed, with relief. "Then..."

He raised his hand, interrupting me. Then, his hand directed me to a girl, with tears in her eyes, storming down the corridor. She was heading for my psychology class. I recognised her, instantly. She was James' girlfriend, Hannah. James was one of Scott's friends. He was also the second nastiest. James sat two places to the right of me, in psychology. "James!" she shouted.

I looked back to James, who had just walked out of Psychology. "Hannah?" he said, confused. "What's wrong?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" she shouted, slapping him around the face. The corridor around us burst into laughter.

"I don't know what I've done!" he retorted, looking shocked and embarrassed. The slap wasn't the only reason his face was going red.

"I've seen the picture of you and Emily!" she shouted. James froze at this. "So," she demanded. "How long have you been with her?"

"I... I haven't," he said, but you didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to realise that he was lying.

"Don't lie to me!" she growled. "I've seen the picture, everyone's seen the picture, it's on every phone in the school!"

"But..."

She slapped him again. This time harder, with more resilience. "I don't care, forget it. It's over!" she shouted, "enjoy Emily!" she finished, walking away with tears in her eyes.

When the laughter had stopped, and James had fled, I frowned at the strangeness of the situation. "How did you know?" I asked. "How did you know that was going to happen?"

"I'm surprised you haven't seen the picture," Edward replied. "It's been sent around the school; everyone started getting it during the lesson that just happened. I knew James was in this class, and Emily would love to have a word with him."

Wait... did Edward have something to do with this? I don't know how he could; he had told Leslie he didn't have a phone. But he seemed pretty strange that he was in the right place at the right time. I was glad, James had tried to get with Leslie in eighth grade (and been cruel to her since she told him she wasn't interested).

xNx

Edward was usually avoided, when he was a child. His childhood had been spent alone, avoided by people around him. He had been to quite a few schools of his life, and kicked out of many. He was removed from his first school when he was twelve years old. He had lived in Chicago before moving to Lark Creek. His Mum and Joe wanted a new start, far from anywhere.

An over achiever, Edward had spent all of his young life playing with the numbers he saw everywhere. He stole books from the school, the library and shops so he could know everything about the world around them.

When he was twelve, he had been drawing shapes that he had seen in a book, and working on mathematical formulations of them. A boy, after talking to his friends, had come over and spilled paint onto it. Edward had almost finished, but his work was ruined. At lunch, that day, Edward had tied the boy to the jungle gym: a tie around each of his legs, arms and neck. He had been assigned to a psychiatrist not long after that.

Edward's sessions did little good. For a twelve year old, he was remarkable perceptive about the motives of people around him. His psychiatrist: Dr. Pearson, had to call many people to analyse him. Dr. Pearson, and one of his associates, had an interesting conversation about him.

"Hello, John?" Dr. Pearson said down the phone.

"Hey! Matt, long time no speak, how you been?" he asked. Dr. Matt Nicholson was another child expert, but dealt with more intense cases.

"I've not been bad," Dr. Pearson was not a fan of this sort of chat, he had not got into the profession to chat. "Yourself? How's the wife?"

"Oh, so and so," he replied. "So, why are you calling?"

"I have a child from Washington Middle School, well..." he paused. "It's very difficult to describe. I've never met a kid like him."

"That's not very helpful," Dr. Nicholson replied.

"Err.." Dr. Pearson muttered. "Have you ever had a patient who was also a psychiatrist?"

"No, I haven't," Dr. Nicholson said. "I have a few friends who have, though. Why? Surely this child isn't a psychiatrist!"

"Well, he's only twelve years old, but none of our tests can reveal anything about him; he's too advanced," he explained, flicking through Edward's file as he did so.

"Surely, you can't have got nothing," Dr. Nicholson said. Dr. Pearson could hear that he was interested, now.

"Well, not nothing," Dr. Pearson frowned. "In fact, we got a lot of results."

"But you just said..."

"I know," Dr. Pearson interrupted. "We ran tests for all the major things, as he was showing some initial signs of, well... sociopathy. However, we tested him on his ability to empathise. He understood how people felt incredibly well, initially..."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, we then tested for anger problems, and he showed the signs of serious anger management problems," he explained. "But, when we did a mixed test, he showed calmness and apathy."

"Schizophrenia?"

"Tested," Dr Pearson replied. "Nothing to suggest it. Then, to give us an idea of what we were dealing with, I sat him an I.Q test."

"And..."

"He scored seventy two," Dr. Pearson found himself frowning, now. "However, he scored highest in his school on every test he has ever sat. To make sure it wasn't a mistake on our part, or stress, we gave him another."

"How did he do?"

"He scored one hundred and seventy two," Dr. Pearson rubbed his forehead.

"What on earth..." Dr. Nicholson laughed. "That's incredible."

"Yeah, it is," Dr. Pearson said. "Anyway, you know that I don't like the Rorschach test."

"I do."

"I thought I'd give it to him, to check if it could reveal, even slightly, what the boy was thinking," Dr Pearson continued. "And he said: 'Do you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool?'"

"He said what?"

"Do you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool," Dr. Pearson repeated, annoyed at having to do so; he hated wasting time, and it was something one had to go through when they spoke to Dr. Nicholson.

Dr. Nicholson, not shocked (As Dr. Pearson had suspected), was laughing down the phone. "What's so funny?"

"Have you seen, or read "The Silence of the Lambs?" he asked.

"How is that relevant?"

"I'll take that as a no," Dr. Nicholson said, and laughed again. "Hannibal says that to Clarice, when he is playing with her."

"So, you think he's playing with me?" Dr. Pearson asked, offended.

"Well, to quote the film again, he's far to sophisticated for your tests," Dr. Nicholson told him. "Everything you have got off him is meaningless, as far as I'm concerned."

Dr. Pearson, pride a little bruised, tried to keep his cool. "So, what do you recommend?" he asked, trying not to lose his temper at his fellow psychiatrist laughing at him.

"Refer him to me," Dr. Nicholson recommended, instantly. "I'm intrigued!"

Dr. Pearson sighed. "That makes sense," he replied. "I'll send you his information in the morning; I'm sure you'll find it as interesting as you expect."

And that outlined the next year of Edward's life. A psychiatric curiosity, bouncing between psychiatrist after psychiatrist. Each came up with nothing, and there was no change until he was thirteen, when something happened that changed everything forever.

**End of Chapter.**


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